


The Title Doesn't Make Sense

by AshSeven



Series: Unconfused [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Otabek Altin, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asexual Yuri Plisetsky, Bkg Viktuuri, Gen, Omega Yuri Plisetsky, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Identity Exploration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:04:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 70,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshSeven/pseuds/AshSeven
Summary: As a newly presented omega, Yuri Plisetsky is suddenly waist deep in sexual advances. Which he issupposedto want, but his sexuality seems to have other plans for him. Basically he needs to figure some shit out.But who has the fucking time between the Olympics, growth spurts, crazy-stalker fans, and social media paparazzi? At least his friend, Otabek, seems to be cool with it all, or is he actually just high all the time?





	1. Part I - PyeongChang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit iffy about tagging this as Otayuri since this story isn't going to be all about them and their relationship, but I wasn't too sure if to leave out the tag since it is pre-relationship and will have some quite obvious romantic attraction. 
> 
> So, this is the prequel to WGAP and it's going to deal with heavier themes. That being said, ABO dynamics are much more heavily discussed here as well as sexual themes. Basically Yuri is a dangerously reckless teenager who has to learn things for himself rather than take advice.  
>   
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>   
> Chapter Warnings:  
> -Sexual content  
> -Mentions of rape and unhealthy obsession  
> -Stalkers

Me:   
Someone invited me back to their room.

Yuri texted Otabek, biting his lip and bouncing his leg over the edge of the hotel bed. Today had been  _ weird _ . He had sat with Mila and Georgi to watch the Ladies Free Skate, because Otabek was busy looking for souvenirs for his family - of all fucking things. Yuri had wanted to go with him, but Yakov had literally dragged him by the ear to watch Mila compete. But now she was done and Otabek couldn’t tell him what street he was on and there was no way he was going to hunt for him all over Fucking Marseille. So, he had been pissed. Pissed until a complete stranger had sat down in the seat next to him. 

Me:   
Should I go?

Mila wasn’t answering any of his texts, and, well, Otabek always knew what to do. His stomach was going to erupt. The way Mila’s eyes had sparkled suggestively when the stranger had introduced herself to Yuri, was forever branded into his brain. He still felt sick. He impatiently tapped his fingernail against his phone screen. Come on Beka - okay, there he was. The typing bubble popped up at the bottom of the chat screen. 

Beka:   
What?    
Who?

Yuri swallowed, glaring up at the ceiling for a moment. 

Me:   
Canadian skater   
Her name’s Megane 

He paused taking a deep breath, trying to calm the revolutionary war in his stomach. 

Me:   
She’s an alpha. 

Beka:   
Ok 

There was a long pause; probably only about a few seconds, but Yuri couldn’t tell time right then. Nervous sweat was already forming under his armpits.

Beka:   
Okay, well it’s your choice first of all   
Don’t force yourself to do anything

Yuri rolled his eyes; he  _ would  _ say that. 

Me:   
I’m not

Beka:   
Okay, so the question is do you WANT to?

He hissed an exhale through his teeth, squeezing the edges of his phone and banging the back of his calves against the side of the bed. 

Me:   
She seems nice   
Like when we talked this afternoon she was okay

Beka:   
Not the answer to my question

Yuri tilted his head to the side; his stomach was tightening and clenching even worse now. He had no freaking clue what he wanted, though. God, he was sixteen, he was supposed to be adventurous, he was supposed to go out and live his fucking life, not sit in his hotel room texting his friend who was off having his own adventure that he would tell his fucking future children about. Fuck it, he was doing this. 

Me:   
Yeah, kinda

Beka:   
Okay, just be smart about it

Yuri glared at his phone screen for a second before sighing in slight relief; Otabek never judged him whenever he asked dumb questions or came to him for advice. He always had good answers too, like his brain was fucking Wikipedia. It was amazing. 

Me:   
Don’t tell anyone

Beka:   
Don’t tell anyone what?

Me:   
That I’m going to hook up with Megane   
Oh   
Fuck off Altin

Beka:   
:)    
Have fun Plisetsky.    
But promise me you wont do anything dumb. Set boundaries and make sure she knows them 

He couldn't help but feel glad that it was Otabek who had answered instead of Mila. she would have probably yelled at him and stolen his phone because he was still a fucking baby sometimes. He shook his head and locked his phone, tossing it behind him on the bed and watched as it bounced against the comforter. He hopped off the bed, stretching his arms over his head before stuffing his hands into his pockets. Okay, he was going to  do this. 

What should he do, though? Should he shower, should he do his makeup? Fuck, should he shave? How the hell was he supposed to know? Glancing to his phone, he decided against messaging Otabek again, even though he more than likely had the answers to all those questions as well. Whatever, he wasn’t a baby; he could figure this shit out by himself. Yeah. he breathed out deeply, biting on the edge of his fingernail as his stomach cramped. Yeah, it was whatever. 

He ended up taking a quick shower and blow dried his hair then brushed it back before deciding on just leaving it down. He put on a pair of joggers that he hadn’t worn yet, a tank top and his black, zip-up hoodie. He ended up putting on mascara and eyeliner and filled in his eyebrows. He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, but he didn’t want to look like a mess either. Okay. Fuck he was actually doing this. He dabbed on a bit of lip gloss and took a deep, calming breath before grabbing his keys and phone, and took one last look at himself in the mirrored closet door. Okay, he looked okay; he fluffed his hair, pulling a lock over his shoulder, and ground his teeth. God, he wished it was longer. He made a face at himself and spun on his heel; no more procrastinating. He had messaged Megane to tell her he was on his way; he couldn’t back out now. He strode out of his room and let the door slam shut behind him. 

 

There was nothing wrong with Megane. She was nice, she was normal; she had gotten him a  bottle of water from the vending machine down the hall. Yet, Yuri couldn’t get his breathing right. They were on the bed, uncomfortably close as some dumb french show played on the television. Yur’s skin was too tight, his hands and legs were too long and too big especially with Megane sitting as close as she was, leaning back on her hands, one was behind his back, not quite touching him, but close enough that he could feel it anyway. No, she was nice enough; her voice had a slight rasp and she had dimples when she smiled. And she was pretty, with coffee coloured hair, almond-shaped, grey eyes, and thick eyebrows. He had no reason to be so nervous. He swallowed thickly, grinding his teeth together, and cursed his stomach. 

“Do you need more water?” Magane asked, tilting her head to the side. 

Yuri jumped. “No. I’m fine.” 

She shuffled closer; her arm was touching his back. Why was the room so hot all of a sudden? 

“Your accent is really cute,”

“My accent? That’s a first.” 

“No, really.”

“It’s  _ Russian _ . No one has ever said it was  _ cute _ .”

She chuckled. “Well, then maybe  _ you _ make it cute.” 

Oh. Yuri felt his jaw slacken and he had to try not to flinch when she brushed a lock of hair from his face. He was surprised she hadn’t been burnt by his skin. The sheets rustled as she turned to face him, and he probably should do the same. His legs felt wrong, though. Way too heavy and way too long. He tucked them under himself to hide. 

Megane leaned forward, bracing herself on a hand in-between them. 

“You too,” Yuri blurted, feeling steam rise from his ears. “You’re pretty, I mean.” 

She smiled, dimples popping up. “Thanks. Nothing compared to you, though.” She reached out to cup his jaw. Yuri froze. “You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen - and I’m not just saying that. Everyone who’s seen you thinks so. You’re gorgeous.” 

He knew he wasn’t pretty now; he was beet red. Was she just saying that because - and she was inching closer; Yuri’s stomach was so tight he didn’t think that he was ever going to be able to digest food again. She was right in front of him, inches from his face. He swallowed, biting the inside of his cheek hard, before he leaned forward to meet her. That’s what he was supposed to do, right?

Their lips met, a bit roughly, but she shifted closer, guiding his head with her palm.Yuri’s heart exploded, basically; it had never beat so fast in his entire life. He screwed his eyes shut, holding his breath, because that’s what people did, right? Megane shifted closer, the hand that was between them, was now on his knee. Okay, okay. Okay. This was happening. It was going to happen. God, he hoped she didn’t think he was sick form how hot his face felt. It had to be hot to the touch; he could feel his eyebrows burning off. 

He tried to copy the way she was moving her mouth and nearly flinched when she pressed her tongue to his lips. Fuck, he also hoped he didn’t look as clueless as he felt. She stroked his cheek with her thumb, the hand on his knee now on his thigh. Yuri wasn’t breathing, he hadn’t been for some time and he pulled away with a loud gasp, panting heavily through his mouth. Megane’s eyes were glassy, her lips were wet, and her cheeks were dusted with pink. He imagined that he looked somewhat the same, but redder. Swallowing thickly, he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, but it swung back into his face almost immediately. 

She smiled nervously at him; he smiled nervously back.  She grinned, her expression softening as she leaned forward to give him a gentle peck on the lips. He knew what to expect now, but it still didn’t do anything to keep his muscles from locking up to the point of making him tumble flat on his back when she put the slightest bit of her weight on him. He landed with an ‘oof’ and she went with him, somehow using the opportunity to thrust her tongue into his mouth. His eyes flew open, hands suddenly gripping her shoulders and everything, but his racing heartbeat froze. 

How did people do this casually? Mila and Viktor talked about hookups like they were talking about the weather. He didn’t even want to think about the things Chris said on a regular basis. He felt like he was going to die. There was nervous sweat on his back and the room was sweltering. He wasn’t going to survive. At least Otabek would know where to find his body. 

Their shirts were the first things to go. Hers first; Yuri copied, his entire face was on fire and his ears were ringing. She was in a sports bra, while he felt completely naked. He tried to keep his breathing even and natural, but he ended up holding his breath on every inhale, so gave up on that. He swallowed thickly as he watched her eye his stomach and chest. She mumbled something in french then she was on his lap, straddling his thighs as she pushed him onto his back. He only just managed to close his eyes in time as she hovered over him, kissing roughly. He tried his best to keep up, but he didn’t think he was doing such a great job. She didn’t seem to mind, or was the hand on his jaw actually to guide him to do the right thing? What was he supposed to do with his hands? Fuck, why was this so hard? No one had ever said that it was going to be so hard. 

He flinched when her fingers dipped under the waistband of his joggers and he felt her smile into the kiss. Okay, this was okay. He could get through this. As long as his heart didn’t go any faster, he might not even faint. She was easing his pants down his hips and he forgot that they were kissing. His stomach tightened to the point of being painful and he couldn’t feel his fingertips, unsure if they were numb with cold or from the impossible heat. Goosebumps rose wherever her hands touched, and they were trailing up the centre of his stomach, her nails grazing the indentations of his abs before circling a nipple. He swallowed, spiders were running all over his skin. 

Then he started to shake. He didn’t know if it was a build up of nervous energy or if he was actually scared.

“You’re trembling,” Megane whispered, pulling away like she had been burnt. Yuri swallowed, slowly sitting up and rubbing his hands down his arms. His stomach was tying itself into knots, and his gut was tightening, but at least she couldn’t see that. 

“I…” he trailed off, hunching his shoulders and wrapping an arm around his stomach.

Megane slid off his thighs. “Yuri, are you a… virgin?” 

His face began to steam and he let his hair fall over his shoulder to shield himself. “I - yeah.” Now his throat was tightening as well. Why did saying that make him feel like he had failed at something? 

She swore softly, scooting further away from him. Like he had a fucking disease. “I’m so sorry; I didn’t know. How can  _ you _ be a  _ virgin _ ?” He ground his teeth, breathing through a boulder of ice in his throat. “I’m sorry, if I had known. We don’t have to do this-”

He got to his feet, scanning the floor for his clothes. Well, this had been a fucking mistake. His eyes were prickling fiercely. He picked up his hoodie, tugging it on before he found his shirt and balled it up tightly. 

“Are you leaving?” she asked, standing as well. He shoved his feet into his shoes, glaring at everything. Megan bit her lip, looking grey around the eyes as Yuri stormed to the door. 

“Is it something to be ashamed of?” he spat, pausing with his hand on the doorknob.

“What? No! No, it’s just… unexpected.”

He wanted to ask why, but his throat was getting tighter by the second. He shook his head, slipping through the door before she could say anything else. 

 

Viktor Nikiforov had won his fifth gold at the Grand Prix Final that year. It was expected that there had been a fraction of a point difference between him and Katsudon, but it wasn’t fucking fair to anyone else. He’d dropped from first last year to fucking fifth, both Otabek and JJ beating him out. He honestly couldn’t be mad at Otabek, because his programs had been amazing, but fuck JJ. If it hadn’t been for Otabek rescuing him from the banquet to drive around the city on the back of his rented motorbike, he would have punched more than a few people in the face - starting with JJ and his smug wife. Otabek had stolen a bottle of champagne and they had found a mostly empty park and had traded sips until Yakov blew up his phone. And then - he never would have admitted it aloud - but after they had gotten back to the hotel, not being on the podium hadn’t seemed so bad anymore.

Yuri waved his hand, blowing lightly on his nails. He shouldn't have been painting his nails on his bed, if he got any polish on the sheets Lilia would kill him.

“What colour is that?” Otabek’s voice was a bit tinny from his phone speakers. He was stretched out on his bed as well, using his laptop for the FaceTime call, dressed in a thin, black, cotton sweater and navy sweatpants. His glasses were crocked across his face as he lay on his side, propping his head up with his palm. 

Yuri tilted his head, picking up the nail polish bottle to read the underside. “Sinister Burgundy.”

Otabek scoffed and the skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkled slightly as he smiled. “Did they make it especially for you?”

Yuri grinned. “I wish. It’s awesome isn’t it?” He held his nails up to the camera. 

“Yeah, it’s nice; the colour suits you.” He paused briefly, picking at something on his hip. “So, uh do you have any plans for summer?” 

“ _ Summer _ ? Summer is like six months away. Why would I have plans already?”

He exhaled harsly. “Okay, so do you want to come to Almaty for a few weeks?”

Yuri paused, screwing the  nail polish brush back onto the bottle. “Huh?”

“Almaty, this summer?”

“You want me to come to Almaty?” 

“Yeah, you're my friend, aren’t you? You haven’t even seen my home or met my family.”

Well, he had stalked Otabek’s Facebook and Instagram. He’d  _ seen _ his friends and family but he didn’t know anything about them. No one had invited them to visit their home before either. He blinked slowly. “Uh…”

Otabek shrugged one shoulder. “It’s completely up to you. But all my friends have been dying to meet you in person.”

He blinked. “They have?” Wait. “ _ You talk about me _ ?”

Otabek grinned sheepishly.  “Yeah. All the time. They’ve watched you compete before too.”

For some reason that made Yuri’s face go warm. “Uh. I’ll ask my Grandpa, but okay. Yeah, let’s see what Otabek Altin is like in his natural habitat.” 

He rolled his eyes. “It’ll be fun.” He shrugged again. “We can do all the touristy things if you want, but Iska, my cousin, knows everybody in the city who has a club, so we can get into almost anywhere.” 

Yuri bit his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not  _ too young _ ?”

Otabek’s mouth dropped slowly and he gaped for a moment. “Uh, you were  _ fifteen _ that time. There was no way I was bringing you anywhere, plus I was DJ’ing so I wouldn’t have been able to watch you.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to be  _ watched _ .”

Otabek raised an eyebrow. “I know for a fact you haven’t been to very many clubs.”

His cheeks started to heat again. Yeah, just add that onto the list of things he’d never done before. “Fuck you.” 

Otabek blinked, frowning slightly. “What?” 

“It’s not like I have anyone to go with,” he grumbled, grinding his teeth together. 

Otabek sighed through his nose. “Well, we’ll change that this summer.” 

Yuri tried to smile, but his chest was all tight again. Otabek was so cool and mature, why the hell would he want to hang out with him? The youngest skater in their bracket, and apparently an inexperienced baby. 

“You okay, Plisetsky?” Otabek said and Yuri then realised that he’d been silent for a while. 

“Uh, can I talk to you about something?” 

Otabek blinked, sitting up and pulling his computer onto his lap. “Yeah.” 

Yuri took a deep breath, wanting to pick at his nails, but the fresh polish stopped him. “You don’t think I’m young or immature, right?” 

Otabek raised an eyebrow. “No… I mean, yeah, you’re a bit  _ young, _ but I honestly forget sometimes. Did someone say something to you?” 

He shook his head, letting his hair fly across his face. “No. It’s just that…” he huffed. “Remember when I said I was going to that girl’s room at the GPF?” 

“Yeah. Something happened then-”

“ _ Nothing _ happened. She freaked out when I told her I was, like, a… A virgin.” 

Otabek paused for a split second as his face went blank. “You’re a virgin? How did I not know this?” 

Yuri scowled, his stomach clenching and twisting. See, that was the exact reaction he didn’t want. “Why is it such a surprise to everyone?”

Otabek bit his bottom lip, and God, Yuri blinked, did he know how attractive he was? “Uh, well, I guess, to put it stereotypically… you’re too pretty, I mean. And also the way you talk and carry yourself like you're not afraid of anything. It kind of sends the message that you're, uh, experienced.” He bit his lip again. “That sounded less offensive in my head, sorry.” 

Yuri held his breath. In the year he had known Otabek, if he had gotten insulted every time he spat out something and only thought about it after they probably wouldn’t have lasted. He shook his head. “Why is everything about sex, God. how can you look at someone and decide if they’ve  _ done it _ or not?”

Otabek shrugged again. 

“I don’t get it.” 

“Then don’t worry about it.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow.  _ How _ ? Ever since he presented as an omega, it had just been weird comments all over his Instagram and Twitter. He had to announce it to the ISU for like regulations or something, but he didn’t think that it would have made social media news. He’d gained a few followers, but he wasn’t quite sure if he liked it. The comments on his selfies had suddenly become very suggestive and had him second guessing every single emoji. How could he not worry about it? He breathed out heavily through his nose, looking down at his hands. He’d smudged his nail polish. Fuck. 

“Whatever,” he mumbled, uncaring as he bit the edge of the messed-up nail. 

Otabek tilted his head to the side. “Uh, isn’t that stuff really toxic?” 

Well, it didn’t taste too good. 

 

Yuri scowled giving himself one last look in the mirror. His grandpa had made him change out of his dress because it was too short. He rolled his eyes, smoothing down the front of his black, wide-legged trousers; his dress had hit his mid-thigh, but apparently that had been too short for Christmas lunch. He’d like to hear him say something about this outfit, though. Fine, if the dress had been too skimpy then he put on long pants and a blue sequined sweater. He didn’t see why it mattered anyway; they were just going next door and it wasn’t like the dress had been any more revealing than some of the costumes he wore in front of  _ thousands  _ of people.

“Yurochka, it’s time to go!” his grandpa yelled up the stairwell. “We’re going to be late!” 

Growling, Yuri shoved his feet into his heels, but nearly fell flat on his face when he struggled to slip them on. What the fuck, was he outgrowing  _ these  _ too? He nearly ripped the skin off his index finger as he forced them on, all the while his grandpa was hollering at him to hurry up. Yeah, the fucking best time of the year right? 

Nelya Vasiliev had been their neighbour for as long as Yuri could remember. She was some years younger than his grandpa, but her husband had passed away when Yuri was very young. Her house, however, was always full with her children and grandchildren. 

“ _ Schastlivogo Rozhdestva _ ,” he mumbled, inhaling a lungful of old-lady perfume and spices as he wished Neyla a ‘Merry Christmas’. 

She pulled him into a tight hug then moved onto his grandpa. He sighed softly, peering around her into the living room which was already swarming with young children dressed in their sunday best and a few men in slacks and jackets with glasses of  vodka. He could already hear the commotion coming from the kitchen and rolled his eyes. They hadn’t been late at all. He glared at his grandpa, but he was already chatting with Nelya’s brother and gave him his back when he saw him looking his way. 

“Yurochka, that’s such a pretty shirt,” Neyla said with a smile, wrapping an arm loosely around his shoulders. “I think I have a spare apron to keep it from getting dirty.”

“Dirty?” He realised she was guiding him over to the kitchen. 

“We still have some final touches for dinner.”

“But,” he looked over his shoulder, begging his grandpa for help.

“Let’s leave the men alone, come on.”

_ The men _ . Great. He was shoved into the small kitchen and an apron was yanked over his head. He was already regretting wearing his heels. He  grumbled all throughout arranging  _ kozulya  _  on a serving tray and pouring out glasses of  _ mors  _ and adding  _ vzvar  _ to a giant glass jug of ice , wondering why none of the  _ men  _ outside got off their lazy asses to help. 

“Bring these out please, Yurochka,” Neyla’s eldest daughter Kilina said with a small smile. 

Yuri wanted to curse, but bit it down as he took the tray of short glasses of v _ zvar  _ from her. He tried not to wobble too much; wearing these shoes had been a mistake; his toes would probably be bleeding by the end of the night. His grandpa was the first one to take a glass from the tray, smiling widely at him. 

“Good to see you helping for once,” he teased. 

He moved onto Gapa, Neyla’s son, rolling his eyes. God, he’d been reduced from a world class figure skater to a waiter. Once the tray was empty he headed back into the kitchen, giving his grandpa an icy glare. 

“You’ve done a great job with him, Nikolai,” one Neyla’s sons-in-law said patting his grandpa on the back. “He’s grown up to be so beautiful.” 

His grandpa chuckled. “That’s all his grandmother’s doing. He’s her spitting image.”

Yuri nearly tripped over his feet, wanting to turn right back around, but Neyla saw him and pushed him off to his next task - washing dishes. 

“So, Yurochka,” Kilina started, sounding suspiciously mischievous. Yuri tensed his shoulders; he had first-hand experience with how much these women gossiped. “I heard you presented as an omega.”

Rolled his eyes, glad his back was to them. “Yeah…” 

“It wasn’t really a surprise, Kilina. We could all tell that’s what he was.” 

God. Yeah, cause he was thin, small, and looked like a girl. That wasn’t sexist or anything. He let them blab on about their presentation experiences, focusing on the dishes and the way the water fell onto his hands, until Kilina placed a hand to his shoulder. 

“I know this can be a very confusing time, Yurochka,” she said, smiling warmly even though it made Yuri’s skin crawl. “But if you have any questions at all, feel free to talk to me.” 

He didn’t have any questions. He’d asked Lilia and Yakov about going on suppressants as soon as his heat was over; he was never going to go through that again as long as he lived. He didn’t need anything else fucking up his career. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, grabbing a dish towel from the oven handle. “Uh, when are we going to eat? I’m starving.” 

He scrambled out of the kitchen, making a bee-line to his grandpa. He was sitting on the edge of the couch, but Yuri wiggled between him and the armrest. 

“Can we eat and leave?” he grumbled softly. 

He started to chuckle gruffly. “Had enough already?”

“They made me wash dishes.” He held up his wrinkled hands. 

He scoffed, reaching up to ruffle his hair, but stopped when he realised that he’d pinned it up and braided it. “I can say my back is giving trouble.” 

He poked around his phone, while the the women set up the dining table, then held up his phone for a selfie for Instagram and Snapchat. He snuggled close to his grandpa who grumbled softly before smiling at the camera. 

“Am I going to be famous now?” he asked teasingly, watching Yuri swipe through filters. 

“Never.” 

 

Yuri upended the box of mail on the carpet in front of Viktor’s coffee table. Yakov had cleared out the P.O. Box the morning they all returned to the rink; Yuri had been surprised that he had gotten the most fan mail this time, more than Viktor, Mila, or even Georgi. He sat down, crossing his legs under each other, in front of his pile and pulled the top most letter towards him. It was covered in pink hearts and he had to hide a smile as Katsudon sat down on the couch in front of him with a steaming mug of tea. 

“Good haul?” he asked in slow Russian. 

Yuri nodded, ripping open the letter. The mail from the his younger fans was always really cute, all misspelled words, drawings, and cute messages about how much they loved to watch him. He saved those ones in a box under his bed at Lilia’s apartment. He had re-read all of them after the Grand Prix Final that year. The Angels routinely sent him mail as well, he liked those a little less; he didn’t need holographic cat ears, or cheap nail polish, or the random stuff found in the cashier queues at clothing stores.  

He tossed a fluffy, pink headband with rhinestones at Katsudon, hitting him on the forehead, and folded the letter that came with it before setting it in the pile he was going to take home with him. 

“It’s kind of weird how fans always want to give you things,” Katsudon hummed, stretching the hairband between his thumbs. “It’s sweet, but weird. It makes me feel kind of guilty, you know. I don’t really want people spending that much money on me.”

Yuri shrugged. “That hair band probably cost like five rubles.”

He scoffed softly, picking his tea up from the side table. “Yeah, but sometimes they send things that you know weren’t cheap.”

“Someone sent me Chanel sunglasses, once,” Viktor popped in from the kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel. Yuri raised an eyebrow. “They were knock-offs, of course, but it was hard to tell. I’m not sure they knew.” 

“Why the fuck would someone send you  _ Chanel  _ sunglasses?” Yuri stared in disbelief. He only got cat-eared headbands, phone straps, or candy, and extremely random accessories. Maybe treats for Potya, if he was lucky. 

“ _ Fake _ Chanel.” He sat down next to Katsudon, throwing an arm behind him on the backrest of the sofa. Katsudon immediately snuggled against his side. “I think they said they reminded them of me.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, picking up the next letter. 

“You got a package too?” Viktor noted, bumping a flat cardboard box with his big toe. 

“Yeah.” He was saving it for last; he had never gotten anything that big before. But now that Viktor had noticed it, he sighed, discarding the letter he’d been in the middle of ripping open and pulled the box towards him. 

“Open it,” Viktor said excitedly, drumming his fingers against Katsudon’s shoulder. 

“I  _ am _ .” He dug his fingernails into the tapped seam between the top flaps.The tape ripped easily enough, and he tipped it over, biting his lip to hide his excitement. 

Both Viktor and Katsudon leaned forward to see better. An avalanche of papers and cards fell out; Yuri raised an eyebrow, pressing his lips together in disappointment. Damnit, it wasn’t anything cool. 

“Uh, Yuri,” Katsudon started uneasily, “Are those…”

He flipped over the card nearest to him and physically recoiled, his neck jerking backwards and his upper lip curling. It was  photograph of him, printed from some tabloid website - it was blown up and grainy - but it was still weird that someone would send him a picture of himself. 

“What the fuck?” he sighed, tossing it over to his shoulder and picking up another one. It was another picture of him. His spine started to tingle and his stomach gurgled. “Um…” He glanced around the pile of papers, most of them had landed face-down, but the ones that weren’t were clearly home-printed photographs. Viktor was on the ground next to him, his face a few shades paler and his mouth pulled into a thin line. He picked up a few of the pictures as well; his eyes grew stormier with each one. 

“Who sent this?” His voice was sharp. 

Katsudon grabbed the box before Yuri could even move. “There’s no return address.” 

Viktor drew in a sharp breath through his nose as Yuri’s fingertips went cold. He actually didn’t know why he picked up another one of the pictures. This one was a magazine clipping, he was standing on the podium, holding a bouquet of flowers and his medal, but the skaters to either side of him had been scratched out with a black marker. He felt like throwing up suddenly, and something like cold water was dripping down his spine. Viktor grabbed the paper from him, swearing loudly. 

“Help me clean this up,” he snapped to Katsudon, who was on the floor in a split second. 

His elbow bumped into Yuri’s side, snapping him out of  his daze and he scrambled to help pile the photographs back into the box. God, people were so fucking weird. He crumpled a sheet of paper in his fist before noticing that there was something written on it. And he was reading before he could stop himself. 

_ Dear Yuri,  _ _  
_ _ You are the most perfect omega I have ever seen in my entire life _ . _ I have watched you skate ever since you were a child and watched you mature into a beautiful young man. I was hoping and dreaming, I prayed every night that you would present as an omega. And my prayers are answered. I love you Yuri. I love your luscious hair, your untouched pale skin, your beautiful innocent eyes, the slim, column of your neck, your slender body and tiny waist that I want to see expand with my pups and your breasts grow heavy with milk- _

Yuri gagged, actually tasting bile. His hand flew to his mouth as the chills down his spine turned into a full on blizzard with hale. He scanned the rest of the letter, eyes landing on the word ‘breed’ which was gone over multiple times, before Viktor snatched the paper from him. 

“What is this…” he trailed off. The room was spinning and Yuri slumped against the coffee table, trying to keep his breath even. Viktor swore loudly, crumpling the paper and throwing it across the room. Suddenly he was on his feet pacing the length of the room, balling his hands into fists. Katsudon sat next to him, setting a hand against his shoulder and squeezing. 

“What the fuck is wrong with people?” Viktor spat. Yuri swallowed looking up at him. God, he felt so shaky and cold. “Who would send something like that? Yuri, call the police-”

“The  _ police _ ?” 

Yuri’s heart thudded slowly. God, was it  _ that  _ serious?

“We need to know who sent this and make sure they  _ never _ do it again.” 

Katsudon swallowed thickly. “Okay-”

“And Yakov. We  _ can’t  _  let any more packages like this come through-”

Yuri tilted his head to the side. “So what? You’re going to start opening my mail?”

Viktor looked down at him dangerously raising an eyebrow. “ _ Yes _ . This isn’t okay, Yurochka; we need to find out whoever this is and stop them before it becomes dangerous.” He whipped out his cell phone from his pocket and furiously tapped at the screen. “Yakov,” he said, bringing it to his ear. “You need to come over right now.” 

Yuri rubbed his temples, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t queasy. 

“Are you okay?” Katsudon asked softly, squeezing his shoulder. 

“What do you think? I just got a box of pictures of my own face and letter saying that some fucked up asshole wants to fucking  _ breed _ me.” 

He bit his lip, and took a shaky breath before pushing his glasses up his nose. “We’re going to sort this out.” 

Yuri nodded, watching Katsudon’s hand as he stroked his shoulder. Suddenly he felt so small, so in over his head, that this word was just so fucking full of things he didn't know about, didn’t know how to do, or didn’t even understand. How could some person he didn’t even know, had never even seen before in his life, just sit down there and write all of that about him? How could they call him perfect and beautiful in one line then say how much the wanted to fuck him and breed him in the next? His stomach clenched at the thought alone and he tasted bile at the back of his throat.

“Can you get me some water?” he asked Katsudon, not trusting his legs to support him if he got up. 

Katsudon jumped to his feet, scampering to the kitchen. Yuri pulled his knees to his chest and rested his forehead against them. They had prayed for him to be an omega so they could fucking breed him. He wrapped shaky arms around his calves. An omega. Ever since he presented, people had been treating him so differently, like suddenly he was supposed to be a different person or they were noticing him because of something different. It was weird and it was creepy. Actually, would Megane have even asked him to come to his room if she didn’t know his secondary gender? Would Nelya’s family still have made all those comments about him growing up to be so pretty? His stomach clenched painfully and Viktor’s sharp voice was now a low mumble in the background. He took a breath, angry when it sounded like he was crying. 

“Yuri?” Katsudon’s voice was gentle and uncertain as he rubbed slow circles against his back. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Viktor and Yakov and all of us would never let you get hurt.”

He nodded, peeking up at him from the hair covering his face. He offered him a small smile, sitting down next to him again and giving him a one-armed hug. Yuri sighed shortly, trying to force his shoulders to relax. 

“Yakov will be here in ten minutes.” Viktor said, stooping down in front of them. “He agreed that we should call the police, but wait until he gets here. Try not to touch anything anymore than you already have, okay?” Katsudon nodded, squeezing Yuri’s shoulder’s again. Viktor’s smile was small and tight as he reached out to ruffle Yuri’s hair. “We’ll keep you safe, Yurochka, don’t worry.” 

“I hate this,” Yuri mumbled, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He still felt cold. “I hate being an omega.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, it's going to get heavy in some places. As ironic and counter intuitive as it seems a study on an asexual character resulted in a very sexual fic ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ but I feel that it's something important to be discussed as asexuality can be very complex. 
> 
> Yuri's [Christmas outfit](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/af/e5/9e/afe59ecb4f3a28e8ef506c109c846799.jpg) reference.  
> Also here's a short [deleted scene](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/post/170000361527/the-title-doesnt-make-sense-deleted-scene)  
>   
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>   
> This fic will be updated **every other week** so the next update will be on **February 10th** \- if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my [Tumblr](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/) :)


	2. Chapter 2

The flight to PyeongChang was at seven am. Yuri wanted to die, especially since he was seated next to Viktor, and the new Team Russia track suits were uncomfortable as fuck. The shitty designer had decided to go with slippery, waterproof material rather something warm. It wasn't even lined, so he had to wear a sweater and a hoodie underneath. So, he'd asked for a blanket as soon as he sat at his seat, and pulled on his headphones, ignoring Viktor straight away. Viktor usually behaved himself on long flights, but Katsudon had gone to Japan a few weeks ago to train with the national team for a while, and he couldn’t wait to see him. Viktor had an album with over 300 pictures of Katsudon on his phone; Yuri hated that he now knew that. 

Yakov had probably broken a record or something when all of his students had qualified for the Olympic team. Russia was allowed three entries for men’s that year, two for women’s  and since he didn’t coach pairs or ice dance, his work was done. Even Lilia had looked impressed when she had heard the news and had taken Yakov out for a celebratory dinner. But working on Olympic routines meant that the whole team putting in insane hours at the rink. Plus, the Olympic team manager, Abram Krasnoperov, was a man who could shout louder than Yakov and was absolutely merciless - lengthening practices to almost double the time. Even Viktor had called him a demon, after he’d sent back onto the ice for twenty more minutes of drills. Although, it might have been worth it, when during their final practice before they left for South Korea, both Lilia and Yakov hadn’t offered up any points to improve on. 

 

“What time is your fight tomorrow?” Otabek asked, directing a slight frown towards Yuri. 

He stuck out his tongue at his laptop. “Seven.” 

“Then shouldn’t you be going to bed?”

“Shouldn’t  _ you _ ?” He was already in bed, with only his table lamp on because Lilia was already sleeping. Potya had been dropped off at her assistant’s apartment earlier that evening, and Yuri already missed her warmth from his bed. He tugged at the collar of his old t-shirt wondering just how warm Otabek’s room was since he’d hardly seemed to wear anything more than a tank top to sleep. 

“My flight’s not until noon.”

“Fuck you.” 

He grinned. “How was practice today by the way? Sorry, I didn’t answer your texts, I was at the gym.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “You go there a lot.” Otabek shrugged. “We didn’t have practice today. Abram had a stroke and told us all to rest today. Even the hockey team. We had to go in for like a meeting, but we didn’t practice. You would have known if you’d answered me.” 

Otabek raised an eyebrow. “Okay, well for that I’m not going to show you my costume-”

“It’s done!” Yuri sat up straight, crossing his legs underneath each other and pushing his laptop to the mattress. 

Otabek sat up too, pushing his hair back from his forehead and leaving it in a disheveled mess. “Finished this morning; I practiced in it today.”

“I you don’t send me pictures, I’m never talking to you again.” 

Otabek scoffed. “That’s unlikely.”

Yuri frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Getting cocky aren’t we, Altin?” 

He grinned widely. Yuri honestly loved when he did that cause the skin around his eyes got all wrinkly. “Check your messages.” 

Yuri ripped his phone from the charging cord and pulled up his iMessage chat with Otabek. He had sent two photos and a video. He had some issues with the design and fit of his free skate costume, but the end product was pretty cool. Green really was his colour. The shirt was  dark green and gauzy with a wide, cascading collar and sheer sleeves. And there was a line of green glitter down each side of his black pants. He tapped play on the video and it was a shot of Otabek doing a fucking quadruple toe-loop like it was no big deal. Yuri swore. 

“Stepping things up a notch?”

Otabek gave him a lopsided grin. “It’s the Olympics.” 

Yuri’s stomach fluttered. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I still can’t believe it.” 

“It’ll be an amazing experience no matter what happens.”

Yuri bit his lip. “Sounds like you're already trying to console yourself. Are you  _ that _ scared?” 

“Not really.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Hey, so I’m going to rent a bike while we’re in  PyeongChang, so think of some places you wanna go.”

Yuri grinned. Okay, this was already going to be the best two weeks of his life. “Yeah.” Yeah, there was no way he was getting to sleep any time soon. 

 

The men’s short program was scheduled the same day as the opening ceremony, which was hectic enough without there being an unbelievable mix up with the rooming assignments. Basically, Yuri was pissed to have spent eleven hours on a plane then a bus, to be told that there wasn’t a bed for him because they had mixed him up with Yuuri Fucking Katsuki. Just  _ how _ ? He was livid.

“It was an honest mistake,” Yakov sighed, patting him on the back. “Katsuki has been training with us until a month ago - it was just a simple clerical error.”

“Yeah, well you’re not the one who has to share a bed with Viktor,” he grumbled, waiting for the elevator doors to open.

“It’s only for one night, and you’ll more than likely get your  _ own  _ room after that.” Yuri rolled his eyes as they both got into the elevator and Yakov pushed both the buttons for the ground floor and the coaches’ level. “Anyway, don’t stay out too late tonight. I know this is exciting, but remember the reason why you're here.”

Viktor waved him over the second he exited the elevator, waiting by the exit with Chris, Georgi, Mila, and Katsudon. He sighed heading over to them. 

“When did you get in?” he asked Katsudon - the current bane of his existence. 

Katsudon tilted his head to the side. “Uh, two hours ago. Why?”

“Did your  _ room assignment go alrigh _ t?” he spat. 

“Um, yeah.  _ Why _ ?”

Yuri scoffed as Viktor wrapped an arm around his fiance’s waist. “He’s just being bitter, love. Don’t pay attention him.”

“Uh,… I feel I should ask anyway. What happened?”

Yuri rolled his eyes, but Georgi jumped in. “Somehow they got our old roster confused with the Olympic one, and well there were two Yuris so somehow planning here got confused and thought that only one Yuri was coming to PyeongChang.” He looked almost delighted. Yuri wanted to punch him. 

Katsudon’s eyes widened. “You don’t have a room, Yuri?”

“We got it cleared up, but for now  Yuri, Viktor, and Georgi are together.” Mila added helpfully. 

“Wait, you two are sharing a room?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow, pointing between Katsudon and Viktor.

“Wrong Yuri, Chris,” Mila chuckled. Both Yuri and Katsudon rolled their eyes at her. 

“What’s even funnier,” Georgi said with a smirk. “Is that Viktor offered to share his bed first.”

Yuri rolled his eyes again, then glared at both Chris and Georgi.

“Oh my,” Chris’ grin turned devious. “I hope you can keep  _ your  _ Yuris straight.” 

Yuri gagged, while Viktor looked like he’d been slapped in the face. Katsudon looked disturbed to put it mildly. They gave each other a disgusted once-over, before turning back to the others. 

“He’s like my son,” Viktor gasped, at the same time Yuri yelled, “He’s like the family dog.” 

Viktor turned to him, a look of pure hurt across his face. “Well. You can sleep on the floor tonight.” 

Katsudon chuckled softly as Yuri scoffed, sticking out his tongue. “I don’t care. I’ll sleep with Beka.” 

Georgi choked on his breath while Chris raised an eyebrow and his entire face lit up. Mila caught on a split second later and elbowed him in the ribs. 

“I didn’t know you two were like  _ that _ ,” Chris chuckled. 

Yuri groaned, stalking back over to the elevators. “Would it hurt you guys not to act like you’re fucking twelve?”

He didn’t even know where he was going, just that he didn’t want to be around them any more. 

“Wait Yurochka!” Viktor called, “I thought were were going to get something to eat-”

“Yuri Plisetsky?” A security guard stopped him and Yuri paused, looking up at him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, right? Or had he shouted too loudly? Wait, what if they weren’t allowed to curse here.

“Uh, yes?” he swallowed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his tracksuit. Yakov was going to love this.

“A few of your fans came around earlier, but you understand that we could not let them in.”

“Uh, yeah.” He sighed an internal sigh of relief. 

“One of them left an envelope for you.”

“Oh, um-”

“How cute,” Viktor smiled, coming up behind him and setting a hand against his shoulder. “The Angels are nothing if not  _ devoted _ .” He turned to the security guard. “We’re about to go out now, would you be able to bring it up to our room?”

The security guard nodded and Viktor flashed him a bright smile. 

“It’s a bit odd that they didn’t wait until the short program tomorrow,” Georgi mused as the others caught up to them. “They would have a better chance of meeting you in person there.” He shrugged. “But I’m not pretending to understand the thought process of a twelve-year-old-girl.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

 

Yuri had just changed out of his tracksuit when a message from Otabek back in.

Beka:   
615

Yuri rolled his eyes. He would be so cryptic sending his fucking room number. 

Me:    
I’ll be there in five minutes.

Beka:   
Actually, meet me in the lobby. 

Me:   
We’re going out?    
You already got the bike? 

Beka:   
It’s not that difficult   
Bring a warm jacket 

Me:   
Okay dad 

Otabek was waiting for him by the entrance and Yuri wasted no time in ditching Viktor and Katsudon - on their way to where the fuck - to run over to him. 

“Beka!” he yelled bouncing over. Otabek looked up from his phone and raised a hand in greeting when he saw Yuri. 

“Hey,” he said, adjusting his leather jacket and glancing over Yuri’s shoulder to Viktor and Katsudon. 

Viktor gave him a stiff smile before Katsudon not-so-subtlety elbowed him in the ribs. 

“It’s good to see you, Otabek,” he started softly. “I hope you two don’t stay out too late tonight.”

Otabek modded. “We’ll just go around for a short drive. I want to get to know the city a bit more.” 

“Oh you rented a car?” Viktor asked. 

“A motorbike.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Viktor’s voice was at least three pitches higher. 

Katsudon behan guiding him over to the exit. “Be extra careful then.”

“I will-“

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up, you two aren’t my parents!” Yuri yelled, but they had already gone through the automatic doors. 

“Ready?” Otabek asked, turning to him. 

“Are we really just going for a drive?” 

A corner of Otabek’s mouth twitched upwards and he motioned Yuri to follow him outside. There was a black motorcycle parked a little way off from the main building. “I found a bar that doesn’t check IDs. We can go there for a bit.” 

Did he have like a magic power? He’d been in Korea for less than two hours and he already found a bar. Just how the fuck? He didn’t even speak Korean. 

“Here.” He tossed Yuri a helmet already swinging his leg over the back of the bike and kicking up the stand. “Let’s go.” 

The bar was a dimly lit place off the side of an alley that looked like the sort of place people went to get murdered. Yuri’s hand itched to hold onto the back of Otabek’s jacket as he followed him into the building. The inside looked just as sketchy as the outside, dim lighting, and scarred, wooden furniture, but a guy in a leather jacket, like twenty facial piercings, and a cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth waved at Otabek as he passed. 

“What the fuck?” Yuri muttered. 

Otabek scoffed softly nodding at the man. “He’s the one that told me about this place.”

Yuris eyes bulged as he glanced back to the man. He had a neck tattoo and biceps the size of his head. What the fuck. “H-how do you know him?” He was almost scared of the answer. 

Otabek shrugged. “I don’t. Met him this afternoon, I stopped for something to eat and he and his gang-“

“ _ Gang _ !” 

“Bikers are some of the nicest people you’ll ever met. His English wasn’t really that good, but we’re here now so that’s what matters.” 

Yuri swallowed. “If we get murdered tonight I’m gonna be pissed.” 

He scoffed again, pulling out a bar stool for Yuri. “You won’t be pissed; you’ll be dead. And no one is going to mess with us.”

Yuri jumped up onto the stool and watched as Otabek sat down next to him. Yeah, no one would ever mess with Otabek. What he lacked in height he sort of made up for with muscle. He was on a special training program to gain mass and this past year had brought results. Plus, with all the black, leather, and his resting bitch face he was completely badass. No one would fuck with him. 

“What are you drinking?” He asked. 

“Uhhh.” He looked around for a menu but everything was written in Korean. “Whatever you are.” 

“I’m not having anything; I’m driving.”

He felt his cheeks heat. “Oh right, uh, I don’t know, just like a beer or something.”

Otabek nodded and a corner of his mouth flickered upwards. “Am I a bad influence on you?”

Yuri’s eyes widened and he gulped. “N-no. I drink; it’s just that I don’t understand a single word written anywhere here.” 

One of his eyebrows quirked upwards.

“Stop making fun of me.” 

“I’m not.” He was grinning now.

“You are.”

“No, I just think you’re cute.”

Yuri whipped his head around, hair flying and stinging his face. “You, what? I’m not  _ cute _ . Fuck off.”

He snickered softly, waving to the bartender. Yuri watched speechless as Otabek ordered him a beer pronouncing whatever brand it was perfectly - or well enough for the bartender to understand. 

Shaking his head, he took a sip of the cool beer the bartender set in front of him a few moments later. 

“Not good?” Otabek asked.

“No, uh… I’m just,” he huffed, shoving the bottle towards him. “Here try.” 

He paused, before sighing and picking it up. “It’s a bit bitter, not too bad though.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, grabbing the drink back from him and drinking enough to make his cheeks puff up. Ugh, it was really bitter. He set the bottle down on the bar top with a loud thump and watched as the liquid inside frothed. 

“Can you believe we’re actually here?” he mumbled. “It doesn’t even seem real.”

Otabek leaned in close. “Yeah, it’s surreal. I’ve always dreamed about coming to the Olympics, and now that we’re actually here its…”

“Yeah.” Yuri breathed in deeply, kicking his heels against the stool legs. “Yeah, we’ve only worked our asses off for this for like our entire life. I don’t think I’ll even sleep tonight.”

“Yakov will kill you.” 

Yuri shrugged. “Aren’t you nervous?”

“Petrified actually; I’m the only Kazakhstani figure skater here.” He even looked cool admitting he was scared. “And my parents are renting out a banquet hall so all the family can watch together.” 

Yuri scoffed. “They’d actually do that?”

“If they could invite the president of Kazakhstan they would. I’m sure my mom has tried.”

He hide a smile behind his beer bottle. Hearing Otabek’s stories about his family was one of his favourite things; he had a huge family and they all seemed to care about each other. That was something else he had only dreamt of. 

“Your mom seems like fun.”

Otabek tilted his head. “She’s… uh, something. You’ll meet her this summer,  _ then  _ tell me what you think.” 

Yuri wrapped his hands around the bottle, watching as a few condensation drops gather in the crease between his skin and the glass. “She’s better than my mom.” He ground his teeth when he felt Otabek stiffen beside him. “Whatever, I don’t want to talk about her tonight. Get me another beer.” 

Otabek poked him in the side. “Finish that one first.” 

He stuck out his tongue and Otabek copied him. It always shocked him a bit whenever he saw the silver piercing in the middle of his tongue. It must have hurt so badly; he didn’t even have anything pierced, and he couldn't even imagine sticking a needle through his  _ tongue _ . But Lilia would probably kill him anyway, so even the thought wasn’t worth it. 

They headed back after Yuri finished his second beer. 

“Hold onto me tightly, okay?” Otabek instructed as he settled himself of the bike. 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “I’m not drunk. I’m not even tipsy.” He was a bit tipsy, and pressed his cheek against Otabek’s back, tightening his arms around his waist anyway. Otabek patted his clasped hands before revving the engine, and Yuri wasn’t sure if his cheeks were stinging from a blush or from the cold air that whipped past. 

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Otabek said as the elevator dinged for his floor.

“Yeah,” Yuri tucked his hair behind his ear. “Um,  _ davai _ , I guess.”

Otabek cocked his head, then hesitated for the briefest moments before stepping up and hugging him. “Yeah,  _ davai _ .” 

He let go quick enough, but something didn’t feel right, and Otabek seemed to notice it too. “Did you get taller?” he asked, sliding his foot between the door and the wall so it wouldn’t close on him. 

Yuri swore. “Probably. I think I grew a few centimeters since the Grand Prix. It’s fucking annoying.”

Otabek chuckled. “I’m sure you’ve still been landing all your jumps. Anyway,” he slipped through the door before it started to scream at them. “Good night, Yura.” 

“Yeah-” the door closed. “.... night.” He slumped against the metal paneled wall, cold seeping in through his jacket.

 

The morning of the men’s short program was pure chaos. There was a shuttle to take the athletes from the Olympic Village to the  Gangneung Ice Arena. Yuri got a window seat at the back of the bus, put in his headphones and tried not to bounce his leg as Viktor sat down next to him.  Katsudon had to travel with his team again, and Viktor had complained loudly for most of the morning. If it was on thing Yuri couldn’t wait for it was Katsudon coming back to Saint Petersburg so Viktor would just shut the fuck up. 

Abram stood at the front of the bus, and gave a short, angry pep talk that Yuri dutifully ignored, glaring at the back of Yakov’s head. He didn’t need an asshole yelling at him right now. He was nervous enough on his own. 

“I never knew you bit your nails,” Viktor yanked his headphones away form his ears. Yuri swore at him, pulling his thumb from his mouth.

“I don’t.”

Viktor smiled tilting his head sideways. “It’s okay, Yurochka, we’re all nervous too.”

Mila poked up from the row in front of them. “I feel like I’m going to vomit, and I'm not even competing today.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “You’re weak, that’s why.”

She stuck out her tongue at him. “ _ Anyway _ , you’ll be fine. Yakov showed us the worldwide qualifying scores, yours was pretty high up there.” 

Yuri shrugged. 

“Not as high as mine,” Viktor nudged him. “But we’re not expecting a miracle today.” 

Mila swatted him over the head with her jacket, and Gerogi groaned, pressing his phone to his chest for a few seconds to glare at him. Yuri couldn’t help but grin as Viktor chuckled and shielded himself from Mila’s attacks.

Later, sitting the athlete’s lounge, Yuri was trying not to bounce his leg yet again. Everything around him was going too fast. Warm ups had only been a few  _ seconds  _ ago, when he knew it had been more like twenty minutes, but he’d been rushed back in here, given water and a towel, and the Abram had given him a quick rundown about how everything was going to go. The entire day had just been people telling him what to do and where to go, and he felt like he was walking with his head in the clouds because none of it seemed  _ real _ . Yuri felt like he was going to throw up. He didn’t even know where Viktor was, or the rest of his team. And he hadn’t even seen Otabek for the whole day. He’d gotten a good luck message the morning, but if Otabek’s day was going anything like his, he probably hadn’t even picked up his phone since then. Yuri wrapped his arms around his stomach and leaned back against the wall. His music was loud enough that he could block out everything else, but he could still sense the amount of chaos going on around him - especially around the large television that was showing what was going on rinkside. He didn’t dare go up to the group of coaches and skates he’d never seen before. He would probably throw up in front of all of them. So, much nervous energy was rolling off the other athletes that he could almost taste it in the air. It was disgusting. It felt like his senior debut on steroids, with his tight stomach, and the prickly cold sweat forming on his back.

And the fucking icing on this shit-cake was that his skates were fucking tight. Well, they had been a bit snug these past few months, but now there was no denying that they were too tight.  _ When _ had he fucking grown? On the flight from Saint Petersburg? This was ridiculous. It had already been too late to get new skates, because breaking in a new pair so close to such a major competition would be a nightmare, but he had no clue how he was supposed to spend longer than a few minutes in these. Whatever, he told himself, tying his laces, this was the fucking Olympics. He could suck it up for that. His grandpa was going to be watching. Lilia was in the stands, and all of Russia, all of the world would be looking at him. It didn’t fucking matter if his feet hurt. But they still fucking hurt.

Someone tapped on his headphone and he nearly leapt from his seat. Only years of training allowed him to keep his balance in his skates. 

Abram stood angrily to his side, motioning for him to take off his headphones. He hung them around his neck, as his stomach started to hurt with anxiety. 

“Am I next?” He bit his lip. 

“Two more skaters, let’s go.” He grabbed his arm, pulling him from the room.

“Wait, where’s Yakov?” 

“In the kiss-and-cry with Viktor.”

Shit, Viktor had already skated? He’d missed it? Why hadn’t anyone told him? “Did they announce his score yet?”

He shook his head, urging Yuri on. “Go stretch, warm yourself up.”

“But-”

He was on the ice in a whirl of colours. He could feel his heart beating in his toenails, and his stomach was so tight that he could barely stand up straight. Were normal area lights so bright? And how the hell was he sweating, when his fingertips were freezing? 

“Yurochka!” Yakov came jogging up to the sideboards, huffing. Yuri spun around, just trying to breathe, but seeing the old man, with the Team Russia jacket over his blazer, was a relief. Yakov set and hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Make us proud. One more time”

Yuri nodded, tugging at the sequined sleeves of his costume. It wasn’t his favourite costume by far, a red and nude bodysuit, with his entire back out and slits along the sides of his calves – the rink air was giving him Goosebumps. Yakov gave him a gentle shove as his name was announced over the speakers. He took several deep breaths, as he skated to the centre of the rink. If he ignored all the Olympic branding and all the country flags this could be any competition. Yeah, it was no different, except maybe ten thousand times as important. Okay, if Viktor could do this, if Katsudon, Mila, Georgi, and  _ Otabek _ could do this, then he could too. He did a few wide circles, stretching out his calves, and shoulders, ignoring his toes as they jammed into the front of his boots. Just breathe, he told himself. Just focus on the program - he’d done in only a million times before. He took up his starting pose, waiting for the music. God, his feet fucking hurt.

Once the music started, he had a few beats before the choreography began. It started slowly, but built quickly and held the fast paced tempo for majority for the program – a test to his endurance. This was the fucking Olympics – he needed a routine that would blow everyone out of the water. The first step sequence went smoothly, fluidly, like how Katsudon had showed him, but he might have lost a toenail or two in the process, or burst a few blisters. Whatever that wasn’t important, he prepared himself for his signature Biellmann spin, catching his skate with one hand and holding his breath as he arched his back.  Two beats, three, and his first jump was up next – a triple Lutz. Crushing pain tore through his foot as it hit the ice, costing him precious time for the set up. There wasn’t enough power in his jump - he felt it right away; it turned into a double. He clenched his jaw as he landed, toes ramming into the front of the boot. Ignore it. But he couldn’t. Okay, next jump; he leapt. Fuck, over rotated, and his toes felt like they had been crushed when he landed. He growled, looping into a wide circle before the next set of choreography. Each movement was close to agony, and he wondered how the fuck could his feet grow so fast without him noticing. It was almost as if it had been overnight, like his body was trying to sabotage him. It wasn’t fucking fair. 

His routine was over  in the blink of an eye, just as soon as he started, he was holding his finishing pose, trying hard not to fall to the ice and scream.That was it, there were no do-overs, he couldn’t try again, that was it. He’d fucked up. He stood panting for a few seconds, clenching his jaw, and trying not to break down in front of the cameras. Fuck. He blew it. And  the throbbing in his feet, was like his own body laughing at him. He hadn’t even fallen once, but it was still a shitty program. He knew it, the judges knew it, and so did everyone else.  He hung his head, keeping his eyes glued to his toes as he skated to the kiss-and-cry.  

“We didn’t come this far for you to choke,” Abram hissed as soon as he sat down on the bench on Yuri’s other side. Yakov’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “What was all that training for if you just throw it all away? This is the  _ Olympics _ , Yuri, what you just did out there was unacceptable-“

“It’s done now.” Yakov snapped, his hand was heavy on Yuri’s shoulder, warm enough to make it harder to hold back tears. He shouldn't have needed to be comforted; he should have been congratulated. “Yelling at him like that won’t make a difference. And hush, they’re ready to announce his score.”

He was one of the last skaters of the day. Katsudon and Viktor  had already gone, so did Chris and JJ and Katsudon’s Thai friend; Otabek was competing right before the last skater. He knew there was no chance for redemption at this point. He didn’t even want to hear his score.

Sixth was not a place for Yuri Plisetsky. He had somehow managed to score high enough to advance to the free skate, but there was still a bitter taste in his mouth. Even if Mila and Georgi had insisted that sixth in the world wasn’t something to be mad about; he knew that he could have done better. 

 

Beka:   
Didn’t mean to bump you down to seventh

Me:   
Shut the fuck up   
Why are you apologising?   
Your program was amazing and I deserved it

And it was. He had made sure to watch it on the screen in the athletes’ lounge before marching off in the middle of Abram’s rant and leaving him with his skate bag. Otabek’s training program was working wonders. Yuri had thought him crazy for wanting to put on mass, but with the amount of muscle in his legs, he made quads look easy. His style had always worked in his favour; he looked so fucking powerful, but he had really brought it today, and now he was third after JJ. Yuri was almost jealous, well he was jealous, but Otabek was his friend, his best friend, so it didn’t count.

Beka:   
everything okay?   
Was hoping that we would be able to spend a little time together during the competition

Me:   
Yeah, everything was so hectic

Beka:   
So what happened out there?   
I mean it wasn’t a bad program   
But it wasn’t like YOU

Yuri sighed wanting to toss his phone across the room, but instead stared at his feet submerged in a basin of warm water and Epsom salts. His feet had been a mass of pressure lines, new blisters, and bruises when he’d taken them off. He changed quickly back into his sneakers, but it actually felt like he was walking on knives.

Me:   
Skates are too small

Beka:   
What?   
And you only now noticed?

Me:   
They were a little bit tight during practice, but idk. I might have had a growth spurt between our last practice in Saint Petersburg and today   
Fucking body is trying to end my career

Beka:   
Why didn’t you get new skates?

Me:   
I don't know   
I didn’t think I’d grow so fast   
It was THREE FUCKING DAYS

Beka:   
I knew you got taller

Yuri huffed, swishing his feet in the water.  All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep after this shitshow of a day, but the opening ceremony was also that night, which meant a lot more standing and walking around.

Beka:   
So are we going to get new skates tomorrow?   
I can ask Seung-gil if he can help to find a place

Me:   
Um…   
They’ll be a nightmare to break in.    
The free skate is in two day!    
That’s way too soon!!

Beka:   
You can give it your best tomorrow. Plus new skates will be better than tight skates

Me:   
I don’t know if that’ll work

Beka:   
You should give yourself a fair chance   
This is the Olympics after all

Yuri bit his lip. He hated breaking in skates. But if he wore at least two pairs of socks and bandaged his bruises properly it would better than potentially losing a toe. 

Me:   
Okay. But don’t let anyone know.   
I got enough lectures today

And if either Yakov or Abram found out that was the reason why he’d staked poorly that day then he’d never hear the end of it. Yakov would bring it up at his funeral. 

Beka:   
My lips are sealed

Yuri flopped backwards onto the bed, resting  his phone against his chest. It was amazing how Otabek could exude calmness over a fucking text conversation. He always had the solution for everything. It was almost scary how he knew everything or could figure out what to do so quickly, but in the year they’d known each other for, Yuri had realised that was just him. He was a quick thinker. Okay, he had all of Saturday and Sunday to break in his new skates. If he could at least bring himself up to forth with his free skate then maybe he could forgive himself for coming here and mess everything up. God, why did he have to grow? Weren’t omegas supposed to be all small and delicate? Well, he bit his lip, Katsudon was like 173 centimeters and the tallest in his family, so maybe that stereotype actually counted for shit. Still, it was annoying, who the fuck had a growth spurt during the Olympics? Like what the actual fuck? If it cost him a medal, he was going to saw his feet off when he got home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was trying to stay true to the schedule of the Winter Olympics, but I planned this months before the actual schedule was released. The team events screwed up my timeline - so I'm ignoring them for the sake of my sanity and not having to re-plot at least three of my chapters. Anyway, I'm and pushing the men's and ladies' program up to the days were the team events are scheduled so the men's SP is February 9th and the FS is two days after. Yeah, fiction-power :)  
>   
> [Deleted Scene](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/post/170717830267/the-title-doesnt-make-sense-deleted-scene)  
>   
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>   
> This fic will be updated **every other week** so the next update will be on **February24th** \- if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my [Tumblr](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/) :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings:  
> -Mentions of recreational drug use

The PyeongChang area was bustling the next morning. For such a small city, there was sure as hell a lot of people. Yuri tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket and kept his head low, hoping that no one would recognise him. He wanted to push his disastrous short program as far as he could from his mind, and for some fucking reason everyone he had met had wanted to grill him about it. Reporters, other athletes, even the dam security guards stopped him to talk.

“They’re not making fun of you, Yuri,” Katsudon had said quietly after Yuri had scared off a speed-skater from Italy. “Seventh place is amazing for your first ever Olympics.”

Yuri had rolled his eyes, causing Viktor to glare. Easy for him to say, he was in fourth place, getting to the podium was within arms’ reach. Viktor was already in first place. He had ignored them for the night; he’d actually ignored everyone and after the opening ceremony had locked himself in his room and deleted every text message asking him where he was. He knew all sorts of wild parties were going on, there was even someone going around handing out condoms, but he knew that he wouldn't have been able to enjoy himself anyway, not with how he’d performed hanging over his head. They’d probably laugh and call him a baby anyway.

Even Otabek had posted a picture to his Instagram. It was him, JJ, Leo, and Guang Hong squished together to get into frame. He could see the tops of beer bottles and plastic cups in each of their hands. Yuri had tried to text him, but all his replies had been incoherent until none other than fucking JJ had answered for him and told Yuri that he was high out of his mind. For some reason imagining Otabek high made his stomach go cold; where had he even gotten weed from? Wasn’t it like illegal?

But Otabek seemed to be fine now, and he had texted Yuri early the next morning to say that he had gotten Seung-gil’s help in finding a skate shop. They could leave as soon as he was ready. After ditching Viktor and Katsudon, because he sure as fuck didn’t want to go sightseeing with  _ them,  _ he ran out to where Otabek had parked his bike . Otabek was waiting next to his motorbike in a black winter coat and leather boots.

“Aren’t you hungover?” Yuri mumbled, jogging up to him.

Otabek shrugged a shoulder, swinging one leg over the bike. “Didn’t drink that much.” He tossed Yuri a helmet.

“JJ and Leo’s stories said differently,” Yuri scoffed, fastening the helmet strap under his chin and getting on behind him.

“I don’t like mixing weed and alcohol. I had a beer when we first got to Mannes' room, uh, he's a Dutch snowboarder. Then I stuck to brownies for the rest of the night.”

“Brownies?” Yuri raised an eyebrow, as Otabek started the engine.

He felt Otabek’s shoulders shake as he chuckled. “Magic brownies.”

Oh. He felt a little winded as the bike jolted forward and scrambled to wrap his arms around Otabek’s waist. 

The skate shop was only a ten minute drive from the Olympic village. It was a small store inside of an equally small ice rink. It didn’t carry all the brands Yuri was used to, but he found a pair of skates in his size – well new size – and had tried them on with the two pairs of socks he’ had brought with him. At least the new skates would be sharp. Factory sharp, but even that was better than too tight boots.

“You know, if you told Yakov about this you could be reimbursed. This is an Olympic expenditure.” Otabek mused as the cashier; a bored looking kid probably only thirteen years old, calculated the price; Yuri had also picked up a tub of wax and new guards as well. Yuri said a quick prayer that he looked like he didn’t give two shits about skating or the winter Olympics. Or at least he hadn’t recognised them.

“If I tell Yakov, he’ll yell at me for being irresponsible.” Yuri mumbled.

“How could you have known you would have another growth spurt?” Otabek’s mouth was twitching upwards.

“He’ll still get mad at me. Then Abram would probably try to send me home.”

“Abram?”

“Team manager.” He handed his card to the cashier, not even bothering to figure out the price he had told him. The exchange rate was weird. The cashier thanked them in Korean, so Yuri just nodded.

“Do you want to practice here, or try to see if we can get into the Gangneung Arena?”

Yuri bit his lip, hugging his new skates to his chest. “I don’t want Yakov sniffing this out.”

The rink was almost completely empty with the exception of a small family. Yuri quickly laced his skates, grimacing at the stiff leather boots. This part was always the worst; most of his blisters had come from new skates. The rink charged per hour so Otabek had paid for four and despite Yuri’s protests paid for him as well.

“Let’s just see how much we can get in before my feet start to bleed,” Yuri mumbled.

Otabek grinned, guiding him onto the ice with a hand on his shoulder. They started off with lazy circles, Yuri getting used to the looser, but stiffer fit of his skates. After a quick warm-up he went through one of his step sequences, and then tried a few upright spins. Otabek copied him and Yuri ended up laughing.

“Imagine if we did a pair routine,” he chuckled.

Otabek scoffed, turning to skate in front of him. He grabbed Yuri’s hands, skating backwards. “Why can’t we?”

Yuri’s eyebrows shot up, and he stared wide-eyed at Otabek’s impassive expression. What the hell, might as well make this torture fun. He pulled his hands away, darting to the other end of the rink. Otabek effortlessly followed. They skated figure eights around each other, paths crossing every so often. Grinning openly, Otabek grabbed Yuri’s hands again and they spun in a circle.

“We could probably win gold like this,” Yuri said smirking. 

“Maybe.” He bent his knees into a squat, and Yuri followed, leaning back and letting Otabek counterbalance his weight. The rink turned into a blur around him, and he let his eyes fall shut until he felt Otabek stand back up.

They skated side by side for a few minutes before Yuri gave Otabek a sidelong glance and launched forward into a corkscrew spin. Otabek was a split second behind him and finished with such grace that maybe to the untrained eye, it looked like they were actually pair skating. Next he did a flying shotgun spin, and Otabek copied him a few feet away, coming close enough into Yuri’s space that he thought they would crash into each other. They didn’t, but when he straightened, Otabek was much closer to him than he expected.

Yuri narrowed his eyes. “Are you just going to copy me?”

Otabek shrugged. Yuri scoffed again. 

He focused on basic footwork next, the thing that would have his feet sliding around his boot the most; edge changes, using his toe pick, directional changes. Even through the layers of socks he could feel the skin on his heel and sides of his toes, chafing. And through all of that Otabek dutifully skated behind him. Yuri had to suppress a smile at his friend’s antics. 

“So what else happened last night?” Yuri asked skating backwards on one foot, focusing on easing between the inside and outside edge of his blade. 

“Uh, well it wasn’t really wild where we were, but I heard stories.”

“ _ Stories _ ?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. There might have been an orgy on the ninth floor.”

His eyes widened and he almost fell over. “ _ What _ ?”

He shrugged again. “I didn’t check to see if it was true or not.” 

Yuri swallowed. “No, you just got high.”

His grin was small. “Precisely.”

Yuri spun around, giving him his back. 

“You could have come if you wanted to, you know.” Otabek continued.

“What? To the the  _ orgy _ ?” 

Otabek snickered. “I meant with Leo and the others. We really just had a pretty chill night.” 

Oh. he didn’t know why he felt relieved. “Wasn’t in the mood.” 

Otabek hummed in response. “Well, next time. We have the entire week.” 

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure about the getting high though; he’d never done that before either and Yakov, his Grandpa, and Lilia would most definitely kill him if they found out. Why was his stomach tightening all of a sudden? He glanced at Otabek out of the corner of his eye, he was standing straight, shoulders thrown back as he gilded alongside him. They had known each other a year, when was he going to stop being so fucking cool and badass? Yuri shook his head, clenching his hands. Yeah, he was a cool, level-headed adult who was probably doing his good deed of the fucking century by being friends with an immature brat. “Hey, I’m gonna run through my free skate a few times. You don’t have to try to copy that.” 

Otabek playfully raised an eyebrow the edges of his mouth cracking into a smile. Yuri’s stomach just kept on sinking lower. “You don’t think I can?” 

“No… It’s just,” he sighed. “You don’t have to keep me company.” 

Otabek tilted his head to the side. “I want to. But yeah, I’ll stay out of your way.”

Yuri huffed, watching as Otabek skated back to the stands. The family had left some time ago, after sending the two of them odd looks. But it wasn’t like either one of them could understand anything they had to say. Or maybe Otabek actually secretly spoke Korean. The fuck if he knew. All the weed probably gave him superpowers or some shit.

He waited until Otabek was seated in the stands, and had flashed him a thumbs up for whatever reason. Yuri shook his head; a few wisps of hair had already escaped his ponytail and stuck to his forehead, but were dislodged with the sudden movement. He knew the music by heart, so that wasn’t a problem, but there was always a nervous chill that came along with doing a routine in a new rink. He took a deep breath, shaking out his arms as he skated to the centre of the rink. His starting pose, head bowed, legs cross at the ankle and arms held out to the side. Lilia had thought that fire and passion suited him - she called this program  _ Dance of Flames _ . He had skated it near perfectly during the qualifiers. 

He ran through it three times, before a wetness in his left boot stopped him. It was either sweat or blood; he was banking on the later. He expected to be pouring blood out of his boots once he took them off for the day. 

“How long have we been here?” he panted as he leaned against the sideboards. Otabek was already in his street shoes. 

“Uh,” he looked like he was about to say something else, but dug his phone out of his pocket. “Three hours and forty six minutes. You done?”

“Pass my water bottle?” He  fished it out of his open bag and tossed it to him. “Yeah, let me just cool down. I think my feet are going to fall off.” Otabek winced in empathy.

His socks were stained red at the toes. A blister had formed and broke on his left, middle toe, and the arch of his little toe was missing a few layers of skin. His right foot was not any better. Yeah skating with his feet like this wasn’t going to be any fun. Otabek sat next to him and hissed when he saw his feet. 

“Still think this was the best idea?” he mumbled, dabbing at his little toe with a cotton ball he had fished out of his bag. He dug around the bottom for the box of adhesive bandages and a tiny bottle of antiseptic wash he remembered throwing in that morning. 

Otabek shrugged. “Yeah. It’s still better than too small skates.” he was silent as Yuri finished cleaning his feet. “You want to go get something to eat before we head back?” 

“Yeah,” he laced up his sneakers. “I’m starving.” 

Otabek nodded. “Good, I looked up a few places while you were practicing. Hope you’re in the mood for authentic Korean.” He seemed oddly happy with himself for whatever reason. And why wouldn't he be? He was in third place at the fucking Olympic games. He had his entire family, his entire country routing for him and he had done them proud. He was a fucking national treasure. Yuri’s stomach clenched and he tried not to squirm. Otabek was his friend - he shouldn’t be jealous of friends. 

“And if I’m not?”

He shrugged. “Well that’s too bad, ‘cause that’s all there is here.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes, shoving his shoulder. 

 

The second day was worse. Blisters formed on top of blisters and there was a bruise right on top of the bone of his ankle that not even his thickest socks could protect. Yuri and Otabek stayed at the little rink until they were kicked out by an apologetic, spindly man in his late forties. He was definitely going to have to soak his feet when he got back to his room. Otabek had parked right outside the rink, so it was literally a few steps from the front door to the bike. Yuri’s feet honestly felt like they were going to fall off and he thanked whatever god there was, that he was skating later on in the competition and didn’t have to get up until like eleven. He was going to go straight to bed; he didn’t even know if he had the energy to shower. He could barely hold on to Otabek as he drove them back to the Olympic village.

“So, Leo and JJ wanted to go out for drinks in a while, if you're interested,” Otabek said once he had cut the engine.

Yuri bit his lip, feeling his heartbeat in his toes. “I uh... I’m kind of tired.” Not to mention the thought of drinking with JJ was enough to make him vomit. “And my feet hurt.” He rocked onto his heels to take his weight off his toes.

Otabek nodded. “Oh, right. Of course. I’ll tell them after the free skate then-”

Yuri’s eyes widened and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “You can go without me. I don’t... well... you’ve been with me all day.”

Otabek shrugged. “Doesn’t matter,” he jerked his head towards the entrance. “Let’s get inside. I’m freezing.”

In hindsight, renting a bike during the dead of winter hadn’t been the best idea. Korea wasn’t nearly as cold as Russia or Kazakhstan, but they still needed coats and the wind still cut straight through to their skin.

Yuri limped behind him, trying not to wince as the inside of his sneakers hit a few blisters. So intent on trying to walk gingerly, he didn’t notice that Otabek had stopped walking and nearly bowed into him. He was stooping down slightly, his back to Yuri with his palms out facing him.

“Here, get on.”

Yuri’s face went hot enough to melt the snow around them. “What?”

“Your feet hurt, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but-”

Otabek wiggled his fingers and Yuri rolled his eyes, hopping onto his back without anymore argument. He grinned as they drew closer to the entrance, straightening his back and pulling himself higher.

“Onwards, noble steed!” he chuckled, pointing to the automatic doors.

“You have to swipe us in.” Otabek's voice was low and even.

“You could at least act the part,” Yuri grumbling, pulling out his ID card from his jacket pocket.

“What, you want me to neigh?”

He snickered at the thought. “No. Clop-clopping would be enough.”

“I will drop you.”

The ass pretended to and Yuri actually squealed. “Beka!”

Both laughing now, they barrelled through the door and Yuri expected him to put him down, but he immediately headed over to the elevators, turning a few heads and gaining a couple snickers.

“Wait!”

“Hmm?”

“I want a selfie.”

Otabek grumbled softly. “Really? Of all the moments you’ve had at _the Olympics_ you want a picture of  _ this _ ?”

“Yes.”

He held out his phone, switching to the front-facing camera, and stuck out his tongue. Otabek didn’t even pretend like he was having a good time. With the corners of his mouth pulled downwards, he looked miserable, but Yuri knew otherwise.

“Do you have to look like you’re dying?” he grumbled.

“Yes.”

He pinched him with his free hand and Otabek’s mask slipped just for a second. He managed to get it on camera. He still didn’t look  _ happy _ , but at least it wasn’t a frown. Otabek let him down after they had gotten into the elevator and Yuri only played with two filters before posting the picture to Instagram and tagging him in it. The caption took most of the elevator ride but he settled on, ‘Free piggyback rides #PeyongChang2018 #WinterOlympics #Mybestfriendisbetterthanyours’.

Otabek rolled his eyes, looking at his own phone and a second later his comment appeared under the picture.

**otabek-altin:** It wasn’t free, I expect my payment later.

Yuri shoved him with his shoulder, and he laughed softly through his nose.

He hadn't expected that picture to blow up his Instagram later. He had sent Otabek back to his room, saying that he needed to take a shower. And besides, he had really spent all day watching him break-in his skates, Yuri would have felt like shit if he had taken up his entire night too. Although the grumpy face he had made when he had literally kicked him out, had him second guessing himself. Maybe he wanted to do something else? But it was whatever, Otabek didn’t need him hanging over his shoulder everywhere, especially if he was going out with JJ and Leo.

He scrolled through the comments of some of his fans freaking out, while he soaked his feet. There was always a group of them that screamed that he and Otabek were dating if they so much as appeared in the same picture. He had tried to shut them down when they had first started popping up, but decided that it wasn’t worth his time in the end. They didn't believe him anyway, and they’d get excited over the fact that he had replied to them and not pay attention to what he actually said.

**Hebetic:** #worldscutestcouple  **@Nephograph** this is proof right?

It was not proof, though. He and Otabek were literally just friends.

**Nephograph:** look at those smiles!  **@Hebetic** if that’s not proof idk what is! Kinda lowkey freaking out rn! Look at how cute they are together!

He rolled his eyes. Then some of Otabek’s fans came swooping in commenting in a mess of Kazakh, Russian and sometimes English, calling out  _ his _ fans to tell them that there was  _ no way _ Otabek would date him, when had had people literally throwing themselves at his feet in Kazakhstan. He had nothing to do there and scrolled until he saw a handle he recognised.

Mila had commented first with a winky face, an eggplant emoji, and water droplets. Yuri rolled his eyes, how mature. And where the fuck had that even come from? He assumed the next comment was from one of Otabek’s friends from Almaty, he had seen his name pop up on almost all of Otabek’s posts. But his comment had offered some clarification to Mila’s.

**Baltabek_Li:** What kind of payment are we talking ;) Get it, Beka!  **@otabek-altin**

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Mila had liked it and replied with another set of emojis, eggplant, peach and  _ God. _ Yuri hit the reply button, his cheeks turning to fire. He and Otabek were not like that. They were the furthest thing from that. Why the fuck would he want to have sex with his friend? He ignored the forming shivery, squishy feeling his stomach.

**Yuri_plisetsky:** **@Milababi** get off my post

**Milababi:** Just wishing the best for you!

Why was he even friends with her?

 

His free skate had brought him up to second place, and Yuri nearly jumped out of his seat in the kiss-and-cry. All the blood and blisters had been worth it, all the extra hours of practice in that tiny rink. Yakov wrapped his arm around his shoulders and even Abram looked pleased. He held a new cat plushie to his chest; someone had thrown the softest looking white, Persian onto the ice and he had practically dove for it. Second he could live with, silver wasn’t entirely bad considering he had been in fucking seventh place before.

But then Otabek had skated and pushed him down to third. Yuri’s throat had gone dry, and he had to dig deep to force a smile and hug him when they met in the athletes’ lounge. Then Katsudon had gone on and knocked him off the podium entirely. He’d bitten his lip bloody when JJ had pushed him to fifth.

Then it was over. Once again, faster than he could really comprehend and all he was left with was a dark, sinking hole in his stomach. Viktor had gotten gold, of course, then Otabek and then JJ; Katsudon had come in forth. Fifth. He wasn’t getting a medal, he wasn’t going to be part of the award ceremony, and he would have to click the 'see more' button on the Olympics website if he wanted to see his name.  _ Fifth _ . He pinched himself to see if he would wake up. He couldn’t have come in fifth, not after how hard he had worked to get here. No one remembered fucking fifth. And all because his own damn body had decided that this would be a perfect time to grow. He wanted to shoot himself or saw off his feet so he could get back his grace on the ice. He wasn’t made to be fucking coming in fifth. 

He spent the award ceremony trying not to bite off his tongue and grind his teeth into dust. Yakov had to reign in a few of his interviews when he nearly leapt at a reporter or two. He didn’t care, they could call him a diva or a brat. He had come here to win and he had failed that. Nothing else mattered.

Yuri hated that he was crying and even though Yakov and Lilia were in his room with him, he couldn’t stop.

“Yurochka,” Yakov started softly. “You did well today. You did your best, and that’s all we could ever ask of you.”

Yuri wanted to jump out of the window. His best wasn’t good enough.

Lilia sat down next to him, not close enough to touch, but close enough that he felt her body heat. “There are three spots on the podium, and you saw how many people were competing to get there. You weren’t the only one who had your heart set on being up there tonight. I’m sure that every single skater wanted it just as much as you did.”

Yuri wipped his face, but that did nothing to help the hole in his chest. “I know. But I could have done better, I could have-”

“You did what you could,” Yakov’s voice was firm.

“But everyone was counting on me, you guys, Grandpa, everyone at home-”

“You didn’t disappoint anyone, Yurochka. You were the youngest skater there-”

“So I was  _ supposed _ to be the shittiest?” he banged his fist against his thigh.

“No, I meant that it was impressive that you could have gone up against people so much older and more experienced than you and still come in  _ fifth _ .”

That didn’t mean a thing. He was supposed to go home and show Grandpa his medal. He wasn’t supposed to fail at this. “I want to go home.” He wrapped his arms around his stomach and pretended he didn’t see the exasperated looks Yakov and Lilia were sharing. This whole fucking Olympics had been a nightmare.

Yakov sighed heavily. “Fine. Go home. I won’t force you to support your team, your country, or your fellow athletes.”

That stung. But he wouldn’t be much support anyway. Not when he felt like crap and the weight of his failure was looming over his head.

He changed his flight to noon the next day, and just as he was about to plug in his phone to charge and sleep away the shitty feelings a text popped up from his grandpa.

Dedulya:   
COngratulastions YuroichjkA. IM PROUD O F YOU

He also hated that he cried into his pillow.

 

* * *

 

“No, you’re coming with me,” Mila said, daring Yuri to challenge her. “This is our last competition of the season, we have to do something together tonight.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, hooking his ankle behind his calf. The World Championship was their last competition before the off season; it had actually been pretty light after the Olympics. No one complained, but Yuri would have had to be dead for him not to compete at Worlds. Mila and some of the other skaters were meeting up in someone’s room to get wasted, or pre-game for some other shit. It was actually kind of strange that she wanted him to come; she was usually weird about him drinking in general. But she had been acting weird ever since his birthday.  

“Come on, Yurochka,” she whined. “It’s just going to be the Crispinos, Emil, Phichit, Kenjirou, Arya and Maria, Kyle, Jannik, Santi...” she paused, counting on her fingers. “Okay fine it’s a lot of people but you should come anyway. You’re always by yourself, it’s going to send the wrong message that you don’t like anyone.”

He didn’t like anyone, especially the unfamiliar names she had listed.

Sighing, Yuri let his arms drop to his sides. “What are you guys doing?”

Mika’s face lit up and she grabbed his arm, cozying up to his side. It was so fucking weird that he was nearing her height now. Even after the Olympics he hadn’t stopped fucking growing. It had ruined so many of his competitions and he had already gone through another pair of skates since the ones he bought in February. 

“We’re literally just drinking. We'll probably play a few games, but we’re all too tired to go out.” 

Yuri bit the inside of his cheek. It had been an exhausting season. “Fine, Baba, I’ll come.”

Her squeal nearly deafened him.

A plastic cup of something strong was shoved into his hands as soon as he stepped through the door. Mila had already thrown herself around Sara and was happily chatting to Emil and Michele. Yuri peered into the room, there were way too many people piled on the beds, and the TV stand and the night stand was covered with all sorts of bottles of alcohol. He took a big gulp from his cup, before edging his way to the corner with the least amount of people. Okay, he was regretting coming along now; he really should have gone with Otabek and the other Kazakhstani skaters. Mila had already forgotten about him.

It took Yuri nearly two hours to get bored. He had spent the entire time scrolling through his Instagram then refreshing the feed when he hit old posts then did the same with his Twitter and went through every single Snap story in his feed – including all the news and sponsored posts. He had posted a selfie from on top the podium earlier that night and it was doing fairly well. He deleted the occasional comment about how sexy he looked in his costume, rolling his eyes and trying to ignore the shaky feeling in his stomach. He had won silver, after Katsudon, and the only thing they could find to say was about how he looked.

Locking his screen after he deleted the most recent one, he glanced around him and decided that he had enough of whatever this was. The person closest in age to him was Kenjirou Minami, but they were two completely different people and Kenjirou was in the middle of the room laughing at something Katsudon’s Thai friend was showing him on his phone. His eyes also started to sparkle when someone shouted that they should play truth or dare. Yuri could have committed murder.

He sat next to Mila and was nearly pulled onto her lap by the sheer force of her hug. She smelt drunk and the smell got even strong when she cheered Emil on as he finished a bottle of Ciroc so they could use it to spin. Yuri should have taken that at his cue to leave. The dares were ridiculous and involved a lot of stripping and kissing, the truth questions were even worse, but every time he tried to get up to leave Mila clung onto his arm. He prayed, actual true to God prayed, that the bottle wouldn’t land on him.

Except it did on the next spin and he was left to gape at Katsudon’s Thai friend. He knew he was completely devious behind his sunny smile and happy eyes. Both his dares and questions had been the most ruthless that night, and with the amount of pictures he had been taking he had enough blackmail fodder for each skater in the room to last him at least a decade. He had learnt things about almost everyone that he wished he hadn’t.

“Yuri,” he purred with a wide smile. Yuri wondered if this was what a tiger’s prey felt like before it died. “Truth or dare?”

“Uh?” his throat had gone dry. Mila elbowed him.

“You can always back out, you know.”

“But then he has to take a shot.”

Mila rolled her eyes. “Don’t be too mean, Phichit.”

His innocent smile sent chills up Yuri’s spine. “I won’t! So, truth or dare?”

Yuri took a deep breath. If he chose dare they would make him do something embarrassing and it would probably end up on social media. Truth might be equally embarrassing, but at least they couldn’t document it. “Uh, truth.”

Phichit’s smile widened. “Okay, doing everyone a favour here.” _What_? “Are you and Otabek fucking?”

It took a few seconds for Yuri’s entire body to turn red. He spluttered, scooting backwards out of the circle. “ _ What _ ?” his voice hadn’t gone that high in a long while. Phichit raised an eyebrow ready to repeat the question. Yuri cut him off shaking his head viciously. “ _ No _ ! We’re just friends!”

He clicked his tongue looking disappointed. “Really?” Yuri felt as if everyone in the room was edging closer. His cheeks couldn’t get any hotter and he reached back to pull his hoodie over his head.

“Yes. God, why does everyone think that? We would never, I wouldn’t... Ugh, no! Just... I haven’t even done anything like that before-”

“Wait, hold up.” Phichit made a zipping motion with this hand. “You’re a  _ virgin _ ?” Yuri snapped his mouth shut, wondering what had possessed him to pick up a gun and shoot himself in his foot. If everyone hadn’t been staring at him like a pack of vultures before, they looked positively starved now. He swallowed; even Mila looked like she was about to egg him on, eyes bright. He bit his bottom lip, balling his hands into fists.

“Huh,” Emil was stroking his beard. “I wouldn’t have pegged you.”

“Nuh uh,” Kenjirou agreed. Yuri had learnt way more about his sex life than he had ever wanted to. Starting with that it existed. “You’re way too pretty.”

Again, what the fuck did that have to do with anything?

Mila gave him a tight, one-armed hug laughing. “That’s little Yurochka; all bark and no bite!”

Yuri pushed her away. His chest was tightening and for some reason his eyes were starting to prickle. “I’m not a baby,” he spat.

She ruffled his hair, pushing his hood back. “Yes you are! My little, baby brother.”

There were snickers all around. Yuri was ready to punch someone. “Fuck off.”

“No, you haven’t done that yet,” ... thought they were being smart. Why did it even matter?

“That’s admirable, Yuri,” Michele nodded at him, but he was swaying even sitting down. Yuri wrapped an arm around his stomach, edging further away from Mila, she was preoccuplied with Sara now anyway. “You’re a much stronger person than all of us in here. And you’re what? Seventeen?-”

“Oh my god, when I was seventeen,” Emil chortled. “I had no idea you were so innocent.”

“The fairy analogy is spot on,” Phichit mused.

Yuri’s skin was itching, and the room was way too hot. He was positive that he had broken out in hives too. The laughing was too loud and everyone was way too close. And why the fuck was everyone so interested in his sex life, in each other’s sex life? God, he shouldn’t have come here. Yeah, he was just the stupid, fucking baby, who didn’t know anything. He got to his feet glaring at every single person in the room. Without another word, he spun around and was slamming the door before he realised what he was doing.

“Wait, Yuri-” Mila’s voice was cut off by the door and Yuri stomped down the hallway with his heart beating faster than it had for any competition.

Fuck.

 

He took out his phone to complain to Otabek and had already sent off the first text  before he remembered that he was with his own friends. Yuri sighed, pulling his knees to his chest, still hating that his hands were shaking and he felt like he was going to vomit. God, he was already treated like a child enough as it was, and now they had extra fodder. Why was it even such a big deal? It wasn’t like he had free time to do anything like that anyway. His life consisted of skating and ballet; he didn’t have time to go out or to even make friends or to fucking find someone that would... He killed the thought, his stomach bubbling and tightening. He pressed his forehead to his knees. He wasn’t a baby, he wasn’t innocent, screw them. They didn’t know him

His message tone made him startle, but he grabbed his phone, sighing in relief when Otabek’s name flashed on his screen. 

Beka:   
Room 623   
I’m about ready to head out

Yuri dove for his shoes, replying that he was on his way. 

The room had a weird smell to it, and Yuri narrowed his eyes as he took in the cheerful Kazakhstani team, some guy in a team Italy jacket, and a few others that looked European. There were empty, cellophane bags littered all over the beds and bits and pieces of foil and plastic wrap. 

“What,” he began but Otabek was already halfway out the door, telling everyone goodbye. “What were you guys doing?” 

Otabek grinned, his eyes were half closed, and he wrapped an arm around Yuri’s shoulders as he lead him down the hallway, in the exact opposite direction of the elevator. “We just had a few edibles.”

Yuri’s head shot around. Where in the hell did he keep on getting those from? God, was he a fucking accomplice now that he knew? His stomach actually hurt. If he got arrested, Yakov would kill him, and his grandpa would dig up his body to kill him again. Otabek had a small smile on his face, just one side of his mouth was higher than the other, but he was working his fingers into Yuri’s bicep like Potya kneading her bed. It made his skin tingle even through the layers of his shirt and jacket. 

“Isn't  that like bad for you?” he muttered. 

Otabek shook his head. “That’s just government propaganda.” 

Yuri scoffed, turning them both around to the elevator. He had never seen Otabek look more confused. 

They ended up at the pool, the scent of chlorine overpowering, but the air was warm and slightly humid, so Yuri ended up taking off his hoodie and rolling up his pants to swish his legs in the water as teal and yellow light shone up from the submerged bulbs. Otabek sat on a chair behind him, hunched over his knees, eyes fixed on the ripples Yuri was making. Biting his lip to hide a smile, Yuri looked over his shoulder at him; he looked like a puppy, fixated on a ball or something. 

“So, what’s wrong?” Otabek asked after a few moments of silence. 

Yuri shrugged, leaning back on his hands. The bubbling started in his stomach again. “Nothing really,” he sighed. 

“Yura.” He sounded like he was scolding him. 

“It’s just that, I don't know. I went out with Mila tonight and we ended up playing truth or dare.” 

Otabek hissed then sighed shaking his head. “And everyone was drunk right?”

“Yeah. And Phichit asked - well they found out I was...” he didn’t know why he looked around to see if they were still alone. “I was a virgin.” He took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “They all acted like I was still a baby and that shit. I’m not, I’m just...” he trailed off, feeling himself getting angry all over again.

Otabek was suddenly behind him, pressing their back together. He craned his neck backwards, over Yuri’s shoulder. “How much sex you’ve had isn’t a measure of anything, you know that right?”

Yuri pushed against his back to keep from nearly being folded in half. “Yeah, but like they’ve all done, so much and I haven’t even… you know.” Otabek hummed. Yuri felt that he should continue; he needed to explain himself. “Like, I don’t know. Everyone is so obsessed with sex. I was going through some comments on the picture I posted earlier today-”

“Congratulations, by the way. Did I tell you that already?”

“Yeah. I think I deleted like three comments from people saying how hot I was.”

“ _ Three _ ?”

“I don’t get it. Like people keep on saying how fucking hot I am, but then somehow I’m still a dumb baby.”

Otabek sighed, his back expanding with his breath. “Then just ignore them. What they think doesn’t matter.”

Yuri bit his lip as his throat began to tighten. “But I can’t.” Otabek reached back for his hand, and squeezed it lightly. “Everyone’s always on about sex and shit and I… well.” He held his breath. “I don’t feel like I’m ready, but then tonight everyone else had already done so much at my age, and like I don’t know. Am I missing something?” 

“No,” Otabek said softly. “Really, don’t worry about it.”

_ How _ ? They were both silent for a while. Yuri watched the water ripple around his legs, wishing that he had just told Mila ‘no’. 

“Did, uh,” Otabek cleared his throat. “Did my comment on your picture from the Olympics bother you?”

Yuri had to think for a moment. Right, the payment thing. He honestly wouldn’t have realised that there was a secondary meaning until Mila and Bal - was it? - had commented. He tilted his head back, bumping into Otabek’s; his undercut tickled the back of his head. 

“No, not really. I’m more annoyed that people keep on asking if we’re dating or fuckong or whatever.”

Otabek snorted loudly. “Yeah, there’s that. I, uh... Yeah, it’s annoying.” 

“Like we’re just friends. I don’t see what’s the problem with that.”

“There isn't. It’s just people being asses, and having nothing better to do.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He squeezed his hand again. “Just try to ignore it.”

Yuri bit his lip, wondering why his stomach was moving the same way as the pool water. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will be updated **every other week** so the next update will be on **March 10th** \- if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my [Tumblr](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/) :)


	4. Part II - Almaty

“I’m retiring,” Viktor announced, sitting down next to Katsudon, his voice was almost drowned out by the children screaming and slamming hockey sticks on the ice. He waved his arm, still wrapped in a bright purple cast, to get everyone’s attention. He’d been milking it for all it was worth and Yuri wondered how Katsudon hadn’t stabbed him yet; fracturing his wrist had apparently made him forget how to do simple things like make the bed, do dishes, or clean up his clothes. Yuri reluctantly looked away from the group of kids stumbling around on the ice, a sinking feeling blooming in his stomach. 

“What?” Yakov’s head swiveled towards them, and Mila and Georgi fell silent. 

“Yeah,” he sighed softly, leaning back into the plastic chair and slinging his good arm around Katsudon’s shoulders. Yuri turned in his seat to face them. Katsudon was staring at his lap, wringing his hands and biting his lip. Okay, Viktor was being serious then. Yuri clenched his jaw, looking between the two of them. “I’ve been thinking about it since my injury, things like this put everything into perspective, you know-”

“You fractured your wrist not your skull,” Mila called, rolling her eyes, but she and Georgi sat down in the row in front of them, sitting backwards in the seats. 

“It’s the same thing-”

“Oh my god, it is not.” 

Viktor pouted for a second before he flipped back to serious and glanced to Yakov. “I think I pulled myself too thin this season, trying both to compete and coach.” Katsudon’s fingers dug into his thighs, making indents in his pants, and Viktor began rubbing his shoulder. Had they talked about this already? 

Yakov hummed. “I could have told you that. I did tell you that.” 

“So you fell because you were tired?” Mila teased. 

Viktor tilted his head to the side. “I think I saw a fall compilation with your name on it last night.”

She stuck out her tongue at him, and Gerogi elbowed her in the ribs. 

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Viktor huffed. “I think, it’s time. I had a good season, I would have liked to have won at Worlds, but I’m happy that my love got the gold instead.” He pecked Katsudon on the temple and he turned almost fluorescent red. Yuri gagged. 

“Get on with it,” he grumbled. “Are you leaving or not?” 

“No, I’m going to coach full-time. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Yakov hummed again. “That’s unexpectedly smart of you. Did Yuuri suggest it?”

Viktor held his hand to his chest in mock hurt. “We decided on this  _ together _ .”

Katsudon finally looked up. His face was absolutely miserable. Yuri rolled his eyes, did he think he was taking Viktor from the world again? God, how self-centered was he? “We, uh, we did speak about it.” He began, his Russian almost indecipherable. “The coaching was too much. So it was either I found someone else, or... or he retired.” 

“I wouldn’t allow anyone else to coach the love of my life.”

“Viktor…” Katsudon sighed, going red again. “Don’t worry, Yakov I’ve already scheduled a press conference to make the official announcement. And I’ve started on Yuuri’s routines for next season.” 

Yakov sighed, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest. “Good.”

Yuri blinked. So this was really it. Viktor was leaving. He scoffed, throwing his legs onto the seat in front of him and stretching his arms above his head. It was bound to come sooner or later he was like fifty anyway. But it was... weird. Like, he really couldn’t imagine coming to the rink and not see Viktor warming up. “Finally,” he spat. “I could hear your joints cracking every time you got on the ice, old man.” 

Viktor turned to him. “When did you last get your hearing checked? That sounds scary, Yurochka.”

“Sounds like you’re actually serious this time,” Yakov leaned forward, bracing his forearms against his knees. 

“I was serious the last time, but I changed my mind.”

“And you won’t change your mind this time?”

Viktor reach across to Katsudon’s lap to cover his hands. “No, my new goal is to make sure Yuuri breaks all of my records!” 

“You guys are disgusting,” Yuri grumbled. “Are we done yet? Can I leave?” 

Yakov actually began to chuckle. Viktor grinned, closing his eyes briefly. “And It also gives me more time to plan the wedding!” 

Katsudon winced, his cheeks getting redder. “Please don’t tell the press that.” 

“Why not?” 

Yuri couldn’t shake the buzzing in his stomach as he cleaned out his locker. Viktor’s news had his head spinning. He was actually retiring to coach Katsudon. Honestly, Yuri had seen that coming; it wasn’t a surprise. His fall at Worlds had scared everyone, and in true Viktor-fashion had called himself an ambulance as soon as he finished his routine. But now that he was actually retiring it felt  _ wrong _ . Yuri tossed a box of protein bars into his bag and gathered up some old wrappers. Viktor wasn’t supposed to stop. He hadn’t even beaten him yet. Breaking records didn’t mean anything if he was t there to actually feel it. 

“Hey, Yurochka,” Mila poked her head into the locker room. “You almost done? I need to talk to you.” 

He shook out a jacket that had been lost at the back of his locker for the entire season. “Yeah. Almost.” 

She came in and sat down on the bench, unashamed that this was the male locker room. 

“So.” She crossed her legs. “That night at Worlds...“ The spot between Yuri’s shoulder blades began to itch. “You know none of us meant any of it. We were just teasing.”

“I don’t see why that was something to tease me about.” He turned away, bending down to zip up his bag. 

“Are you really a virgin, though?” 

Yuri swallowed, his face heating up. “Yeah, _and_?” 

“I thought… wait, didn’t you hook up with that Canadian girl at the GPF?” 

“We didn’t do anything.” His throat felt like it was squeezing shut. 

“Why not?” 

“Does it fucking matter? I didn’t want to.”

There was a beat of silence. “Yuri, are you scared?” 

“No!” He spun around, flinging the side of his arm into the locker next to him. “I just don’t want to. Is that a fucking crime? Why do you even care so much? Who cares who’s sticking their dick in who! I don’t get your fascination with something so stupid. God!” 

“Hey, I’m not-“

“I’m not a baby for fuck’s sake! Just fucking leave me alone about it!” 

Mila held up her hands in surrender. “Okay. Look, Yuri, all I’m saying is, it’s not a big deal; maybe you just haven’t found the right person. It’s actually kind of sweet that you’re waiting-”

“That’s not even the point!” She had missed it entirely. He grabbed his bag and stomped over to the door, cheeks flaming almost as hot as they had when he’d left the hotel room at Worlds. 

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Otabek asked as soon as the FaceTime video connected. 

Yuri scowled at him, giving up on the following the waterfall braid tutorial on YouTube and let his hands fall to his lap. “Can’t get this dumb braid.”

Otabek tilted his head to the side, tugging lightly at the cord of his headphones. “And the real reason?” 

Yuri stared at him. How did he do that? He sighed, looking around his room for Potya. Ugh, she was probably with Lilia, traitor. “Shitty day. Viktor is retiring for real this time.”

“He is?” 

“Yeah. He wants to coach Katsudon full-time.”

“That makes sense.” 

“Gerogi and Mila want to plan a surprise party for him.”

He nodded. “He’d like that.”

They fell into silence. Otabek staring at something on his screen, and occasionally typing something out. Yuri bit his lip, curling his hands around his ankles. Maybe he should tell him. He always had an answer for everything anyway. He didn’t seem to mind the venting either. 

“Hey, Beka?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you, uh, remember at Worlds what we talked about by the pool?” 

He hesitated for a second and Yuri nearly told him to forget it. But he nodded slowly, eyebrows dipping into a frown. “Yeah.” 

He took a deep breath. “I guess Mila was apologising in her own way, but like. I don’t know. She was all like maybe I haven’t found the right person yet and that crap.” He bent his legs, pressing the soles of his feet flat together, and arching his back. “But, I… I - it’s so… weird. I like have no time, it’s just training and ballet, and like I barely have time to breathe. I don’t have time to make friends or hook up, like I honestly never really even thought about it this much before. I thought I didn’t have the time, but it turns out that I actually did?” he stuck his fingers into the gaps between his toes, finding a hole in his sock. “Everyone else has, like, these extra lives where they do all these  _ things _ , and I’m just… me. I don’t know. Maybe I am just a baby.” 

Otabek was biting the inside of his cheek, remaining silent for a moment. Fuck, maybe he had said too much. Who said that he wanted to hear all of that, or needed an isecure brat whining to them about something so dumb. His cheeks were steaming and he looked down at his feet as his throat stung with tightness. 

“Well,” Otabek said at length. “Do you  _ feel  _ ready? I think that’s the most important question.”

Yuri shrugged, clearing his throat. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know anything.” 

“Don’t say that, Yura. I mean this stuff is kind of weird-”

“ _ You’re _ not a virgin,” he said, looking up, knowing that he was probably glowing red. 

“What?” He blinked, stunned slightly, before he caught himself and cleared his throat, scratching the side of his neck. “No. Uh… no.” 

Yuri’s stomach began to tighten and he squeezed his big toe. Of course he wasn’t; it was literally _just_ him. “When… uh…” Wait, was that private? 

Otabek rubbed the back of his neck then breathed out heavily through his nose. 

“You don’t have to answer that. Sorry. 

“No, it’s fine. I mean, I’m not ashamed of it. It was when I was in America, I was fifteen… I - yeah it was a year after I presented. Uh yeah. I was kind of drunk, I don’t really… I barely remember the girl actually.” Oh, he definitely felt sick now.  _ Fifteen _ ? He had been training for his senior debut on his fifteenth birthday. “It wasn’t anything special, it was a some house party- someone's parents were out of town or something, and we went up to one of the bedrooms and locked the door.” He finished with a shrug.

Oh. Yuri felt short of breath. Yeah, he was definitely missing something. Literally everyone had done something, and he’d been trapped in this fucking bubble. And how could _Otabek_ be telling him not to worry about it? He should be worrying about it. How the hell had he fallen so far behind everyone else? It was like they had collectively decided not to include him. 

“Uh, Yura, it’s really not that important. I know lots of people who have decided to wait until marriage.”

Yuri bit his lip. But he hadn’t decided anything; it had just happened like this. He shook his head.

“Don't’ let it bother you, really.” 

He felt dizzy and short of breath, while his cheeks got steadily hotter.  “When you figure out how to do that, let me know,” he spat, looking away. 

“Yu-”

There was a knock on his door and he spun around just as Lilia cracked it open. “Yuroch-” she paused when the door caught the edge of Yuri’s gym bag. “Look at the state of this room. Yuri, this is unacceptable.” 

He grumbled, shoving down all the swirling emotions and gave Otabek an apologetic wince. “It’s  _ my  _ room.” he shuffled along his mattress, swinging his legs to the floor. He ignored the crinkle of a some sort of food wrapper as he stepped on it. 

Lilia strode through the door, eyes narrowing as she examined everything from the old cups of tea on his desk to the clothes and food wrappers on the floor and his open closet, spilling over with piles of rumpled clothes. “Is that your suitcase from  _ Worlds _ ?”

He glanced to the open suitcase near his closet. He’d been unpacking as he needed the clothes. Otabek was snickering softly, Yuri glared at him.

“Yuri Plisetsky,” Lilia snapped. “This is disgusting.” He bit the inside of his cheek, shying away from what he knew was going to be a lecture. “You will have this room cleaned spotlessly before I get back from Paris.” 

He scowled at her. “But-”

“ _ Or _ you will be cleaning the  _ entire  _ apartment until it sparkles.” He gulped as she glared at him. “My taxi is outside. Make sure you lock up properly before you leave for Viktor’s.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

She raised an eyebrow sharply and Yuri sat up straight on instinct. “Be safe, Yurochka. I want you to get there before nightfall.”

He sighed through his nose. “Yeah. Safe flight, and enjoy your trip.” 

She nodded at him, possibly giving him a ghost of a smile. Otabek was chuckling behind his palm when she left. 

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything. But she has a point; you’re a slob.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Well sorry. Not everyone’s room can look like a magazine spread.” 

“When was the last time you made your bed?” 

“Why the fuck would I make my bed, when I mess it up every night?”

Otabek sighed heavily. “Why am I friends with you?” 

Yuri grinned. “Because of my warm and cheerful personality.”

Otabek snorted, then covered his face as he nearly curled over laughing. Yuri watched, his grin widening until he was chuckling along. 

It had taken Yuri nearly an hour to coax Potya into her carrier. By the time he’d packed his bag, and gotten all of Potya’s stuff, the sun had already set. He clicked his tongue, texting Viktor that he’d be late. It was a thirty minute train ride from Lilia’s apartment to Viktor’s, but they’d be expecting him at around seven; it was six fifty now. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t taken the train at night before, and this time wouldn’t be any different. Plus, if he kept his hood up, and hid behind his hair it would be impossible to tell who he was.

Lilia, especially, had been a bit paranoid about him being by himself since he had opened the letter he had got at PyeongChang. He’d forgotten that he had stuffed it into his bag so Viktor wouldn’t find it, and had found it a few days after everyone had gotten back to Saint Petersburg. It had turned out to be a blown up photograph of him taken at the PyeongChang airport. It was blurry and shot from behind, but Yuri’s stomach had churned until he thought he was going to vomit. The stalker had been in the same city as him, and pretty close too from the looks of it. 

But that had been in February and March was almost over, and he hadn’t gotten any more packages or letters. He could handle one train ride in the dark. 

 

So, either Viktor had forgotten that he was coming over that night, or the dumbass had locked him out on purposed. He kicked the door after jiggling the handle didn’t work. 

“Viktor!” he yelled, “Viktor! Let me in!” 

There was a loud thud from the other side before he heard Viktor call out, “One minute, Yurochka!” 

He grumbled, crossing his legs at the ankle. This idiot. The door swung open a few seconds later to a ruffled looking Viktor. Yuri narrowed his eyes, pushing his way inside. 

“I thought you’d be later,” Viktor said, sounding slightly winded as he scratched the back of his head, messing up his hair more. Yuri grunted bending, down to free Potya from her carrier. She grumbled and slunk deeper into the cage; Yuri let her be, wondering where Makkachin was. He’d normally be sticking his nose right in. He had learnt quickly not to mess with Potya, but he still got excited whenever Yuri brought her over. 

“I texted you.”

He threw down his bag next to the coffee table glancing around the room. It was a bit dark in here, only the living room light was on. He rolled his eyes, flopping down on the couch; Viktor had probably been napping. He also needed to take out the trash again; the apartment smelt weird. 

“Were you sleeping?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“The couch cushions are on the floor.” 

“Oh, yeah I -”

“Hey, Yuri,” Katsudon appeared from the bathroom with flushed cheeks and hair as messed up as Viktor’s. Viktor made a soft strangled noise at the back of his throat, and Katsudon’s eyes widened. 

Yuri stared, eyes darting between the two of them. Wait, Vitkor’s shirt was inside out. “Oh my God!” He sprang up from the couch, getting as much distance from it as he could. “No! No no no no no! You guys  _ knew  _ I was coming over!” His insides were squirming at the thought of, no. Nope. He was not fucking thinking about that.

Katsudon’s face turned redder and he winced. 

Viktor cocked his head, tugging lightly at a lock of hair. “Well…”

“On the couch? I have to sleep there!” 

There was a pitiful cry from the bedroom and scrabbling against the door.  _ That’s  _ where Makkachin was. Katsudon sighed softly going over to let him out. Yuri watched as he bounded over, jumping up and trying to lick his face. He pushed him down, scratching behind his ear. “You two are disgusting. Open a window at least, fuck.” 

Katsudon was biting his lip, turning tomato red. Viktor wrapped an arm around his waist, pecking the side of his cheek. Yuri grumbled, marching to the dinning table hoping that the kitchen was safe; his stomach was still gurgling. He didn’t know how he was supposed to spend two weeks with them and hold onto his sanity. 

 

It wasn’t Yuri’s fault that he felt antsy all morning, not after what had happened on his Instagram last night. Viktor and Katsudon had taken him out to some super fancy restaurant last night. He’d just worn slacks and a blouse, a sheer white thing that buttoned up to a loose, floppy collar, but he had taken a photo of himself with it half undone, bending over slightly to cover up the hem of his underwear. His makeup was done, but his hair wasn’t, and he was kind of procrastinating in finishing up, so he wrote a caption about trying to see how long it would take Viktor and Yuuri to come get him. It was funny, right? Viktor has commented that if he didn’t get out of the bathroom right now, he would drag him to the restaurant  just like that. 

But then he’d gotten a comment from some random that had almost ruined the entire night. 

**Escharotic:** looking so sexy like that, just wish it was my shirt you were wearing instead ;)

He wasn’t trying to be sexy. And his stomach quivered as he deleted the comment and closed Instagram. He would give it Katsudon, however, for trying his best to keep him occupied at dinner. 

The guy had come back later, asking why he had deleted his comment.  And Yuri had to sit up, flipping on the lamp next to the couch, not knowing why his fingers were shaking as he held his phone. 

**yuri-plisetsky:** it was inappropriate and I didn’t like it. 

**Escharotic:** it was the truth tho. You’re a damn fine omega 

Yuri took in a deep breath through his nose. His mouth was dry all of a sudden and his chest felt tight. How did he even know? He would have had to research that. his spine tingled at the thought of this weirdo creeping all his profiles or even going to the ISU website - that's where his secondary gender was posted for everyone to look at. 

**yuri-plisetsky:** thanks but wasn’t looking for compliments. 

Was it even a compliment? It didn’t feel like it. His stomach shouldn’t be cramping like this if it was, right? 

**Escharotic:** I’m just saying. I like calling facts and you’re so fuckin hot the things I would do to you… 

Okay that wasn’t good. He swallowed, tapping on the comment to delete it. But another one popped up under his thumb. 

**Escharotic:** You ever taken an alpha's knot? I would give mine to you in a second. 

What the fuck? He held his breath as he deleted both comments and locked his phone, burying it under his pillow. His heart was racing and he was sweating. What the actual fuck? Who said things like that? What the hell? God, why was it hard to breathe right now? He stood up, bracing himself on the armrest of the couch before shuffling to the bathroom holding his stomach. He was going to be sick. 

Sitting down on the toilet seat, he took a few even breaths. Okay, he raked a hand through his hair, pushing it from his face. Okay, it was just some douche. It would take a special kind of person to just say something like that. He didn’t even know him. Why the hell would he want to fuck him? And there was nothing sexual about his picture, it was funny. Ugh, he rubbed his hands up and down his biceps, he’d block the guy and just forget about it. 

He stood up, drank a few mouthfuls of water directly from the faucet and splashed some onto his face. Yeah, he was fine. Just another story to tell Otabek. But when he retrieved his phone from under his pillow there was a DM from the same guy. 

It was with a sort of morbid, dreadful curiosity that he opened it. It took him awhile to figure out what he was looking at the picture was kind of blurry, with poor lighting, but once it clicked, something from deep within him nearly forced him to vomit. He covered his mouth just in case, his stomach had gone so tight that it actually felt like a heat cramp. But he was unable to force himself to look away. He was staring at a dick. An alpha's dick, already swelling with a knot. 

What the hell was he supposed to do? 

First it was the messed up stalker saying they wanted to breed him, now this guy saying he wanted to fuck him. It was disgusting. So disgusting. And he hadn’t even done anything, fuck; he had even presented late, so what was everyone’s deal? He ended up deleting the DM and blocking the guy. But the picture was already burnt into the inside of his eyelids. He didn’t get much sleep, tossing on the couch, changing sides every hour. He came closer to throwing up with each motion. Eventually, he came back to the picture he posted and deleted that as well, holding his breath and keeping it in until his chest began to burn. 

It felt like he had only gotten ten minutes of sleep when Viktor and Katsudon wandered out from their room and began clanking around the kitchen for breakfast. He rolled off the couch cursing everything he could. 

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me, love?” Viktor was a tone away from whining. Yuri rolled his eyes staring at the television as he cuddled Potya to his chest. Why was Viktor always so annoying? 

Katsudon sighed softly, sinking into the couch next to Yuri. “It’s okay, I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do with your friend. I’ll be fine here.” 

He hesitated slightly, before crossing the room to stand in front of the couch. “Okay, well call if you need anything.”  Yuri rolled his eyes again, sinking his chin into Potya’s fur. Viktor bent over, catching Katsudon’s chin with his thumb and index finger. He stroked it lightly, slowly closing the distance between their faces, and before Yuri could even protest anything they were kissing. 

Yuri gagged, tightening his hold around Potya. She slumped against his chest, purring loudly. “Did you guys forget I’m still here?” he growled, scooting over to the opposite side of the chair. Yuri couldn’t count how many times he caught them kissing, or making out, and at first they had seemed apologetic but now they didn’t care. It always made his stomach jump slightly, and he would try to give them space. But today, he was done. Done with everything that had to do with love or sex or dumb shit like that. He kicked Viktor in the thigh.  

Viktor answered by catching his ankle and shoving it away. He then pulled away from Katsudon slightly before ending the kiss completely with a swift peck to his lips. Yuri growled. “I should be back before four.” Viktor straightened, taking a step back. 

Katsudon nodded, letting his hand linger against his forearm. Yuri squirmed, fingers tight around Potya’s collar. “Oh, don’t forget to check on the invitations.They said they had a few samples for us.”

Viktor’s face lit up. “Of course, love.” He pecked his cheek again with a loud smack. 

“Oh my God, just leave already,” Yuri spat. 

They both chuckled and Viktor ruffled Yuri’s hair as he passed. He gave Makkachin a scratch behind the ear when he followed him. He winked and blew a kiss at them slipping through the door.

“I hate you so much!” Yuri yelled, before the door swung shut with a click.

Katsudon chuckled. “Watch this.” He pointed at the door counting down from five.

The door handle jingled a few seconds later followed by a soft knock. “Yuuri, love?” Viktor called.

“Coming, Vitya,” he sighed in amusement, hopping up from the couch and picking up a set of keys and a wallet from a glass bowl on the edge of the breakfast bar. Makkachin weaved between his legs, tail wagging into a blurr. He handed Viktor his keys with a short peck on the lips then gently shoved him back through the door.

“I honestly wonder how he lived on his own for so long and didn’t accidentally kill himself,” Katsudon said with a small smile. Yuri rolled his eyes, but that really was a mystery. “So, any plans today?” 

Yuri shrugged as Katsudon flopped back down next to him. “Great, you can help me look through some venues for the wedding.”

Yuri ground his teeth together; his molars scraped loudly against one another. And suddenly his chest was shaking in angry heat. “I don’t want to help you with your stupid wedding,” he spat. 

Katsudon blinked, tilting his head to the side. He looked at Yuri with a slight frown despite his eyes remaining soft. “Are you okay? You’ve been grounchy for the entire morn-”

“I don’t get why everyone is so obsessed with all this love and sex bullshit!” Yuri yelled, sitting up and letting Potya slide down to his lap. She grumbled before jumping down onto the floor to find a less mobile napping spot, but Makkachin spotted her and nearly headbutted her in his excitement. “Everywhere I turn it’s some  _ crap _ , and you two are so fucking disgusting, and-”

“Hey,” Katsudon cut him off, voice sharp. Yuri swallowed, realising that he was breathing heavily. Okay, that had been a bit harsh. “Okay, what happened? You haven’t blown up at me like that in a long while.” Yuri took a deep breath, falling sideways against the arm rest. “Love and sex bullshit? Yuri?” 

He bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s nothing.” There was no way in hell he was going to talk about that with Katsudon. 

“It’s not nothing.” His voice was still sharp. “Yuri, did something happen to you?”

He clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut. “No!” he paused. “Well not like that.” He swallowed, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t know.”

“Hey,” Katsudon mumbled. “You can tell me anything. I know we’re not as close as you and Viktor, but I promise-”

“I’m not close with that old man.”

“Oh,  _ right _ . Sorry. But if anything’s troubling you-”

“I  _ know _ .” He sighed, glaring at a the frayed edge of the bandage wrapped around his middle toe. Maybe, though. Katsudon was an omega like him, maybe he did get guys or girls calling him out or making rude comments. “Have you ever…” he paused shaking his head. “Have you ever gotten like comments because you were an omega?”

Katsudon paused, before sighing sadly and resting a hand to Yuri’s shoulder. “Comments that criticise and put everything you do into a sexual situation? Yeah.” Yuri swallowed, turning to face him. “People can be disgusting, especially online and in the media. I wish I could give you better advice than to just ignore it.” He shook his head, an angry spark igniting behind his eyes. “People are sexist assholes and from the moment you realise you're an omega it gets even more difficult.” Yuri bit his lip. “Yeah, I’ve had people be absolutely disgusting, and I don’t even post that much, I’m not even a  _ pretty  _ omega.” What? Yuri scowled. Well,  _ that  _ was bullshit. “And they still come after me sometimes.” 

“Does it make you feel, like… I don’t know...”

“Violated? Uncomfortable? Disgusted? Yeah.” 

“I didn’t ask for this,” he muttered, tugging at his little toe. “I didn’t ask for them to make those comments.” 

“No, no one does.” 

“The picture I posted last night before we went out. I thought it was okay, but some guy was all like he wanted me in his shirt and asked if me to take his knot. Then he sent me picture of his dick.”

Katsudon hissed. “Did you report him?”

“I blocked him. Like ever since I presented it's been shit like this.” He curled his fingers around his foot. “From like random people and people I know-”

“What? Who?” 

Yuri shrugged. “Mila, Emil and Michele… your friend, Phi.. chit?”

Katsudon’s face was pale. “ _ Phichit _ ?”

“Yeah, we were playing truth or dare and he asked me whether or not Otabek and I were… uh, fucking. We’re  _ not _ , if you were even thinking-”

“I wasn’t.”

“Yeah. Then they all freaked out when I said I hadn’t…” he swallowed. “That I’m a virgin.” he screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the surprised gasp or comment in disbelief. 

“Oh. They freaked out?”

Yuri cracked open an eye, turning to face him. “Yeah, kind of. They called me a baby.” 

“ _ Phichit _ , called you a baby?”

“Not him. I don’t know he just seemed kind of shocked. But Mila and the others went on about it. I don’t know why it’s anyone’s business.”

“It  _ isn’t _ . No one should ever make fun of you for something like that. Mila should know better. And  _ Phichit _ , I’m going to have a long talk with him.” 

Yuri blinked at the firmness of his voice and his shoulders relaxed. Okay, finally someone understood. “I mean, like I haven’t even thought about it so much before. I don’t see the big deal about it.” Katsudon nodded. “Like everyone’s so obsessed with sex and that’s all they can talk about.”

“ _ You _ don’t feel like this, though?”

“Fuck no!” He paused. “Should I?”

“No.”

The way he said it had Yuri’s stomach bubbling softly and he bit his bottom lip. “Is there something wrong with me? I’m seventeen and like I’ve never even been in a relationship, but like Mila or Otabek had already… am I missing something?”

“No. Everyone develops differently-”

“Yeah, that’s bullshit. It’s everyone but  _ me _ !”

Katsudon sighed roughly. “This is going to be a… long… Do you want some tea? It usually helps.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow. Tea? What the fuck? “No. It’s too hot for tea.”

He almost looked insulted. “It’s never too hot for tea.”  He got up to start the kettle and minutes later, through which Yuri was squirming uncomfortably on the couch, unlocking his phone only to lock it back immediately after, was setting a tray with two cups and a teapot on the coffee table. Yuri watched him pick up one and blow away the steam before gingerly sipping. 

“So,” Katsudon hummed, setting his cup back down. “You’ve never  _ thought  _ about having sex before?”

Yuri’s cheeks heated instantly. “I guess. I mean, yeah. But like it’s not important, right? I didn’t want to… ugh. I don’t know, it never came up like this, and skating is so much more important. Fuck, there’s something wrong with me, I know it.” He was going to throw up. Everything was moving too fast, he was struggling to breathe too.

“Yuri, there’s nothing-”

“What if. Oh God, what if I need like therapy? I’ll have to take the season off and, Yakov will force me to see a doctor and, and the press will be all over, and Grandpa-”

Katsudon grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Yuri! It’s nothing like that! You don’t need therapy, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“ _ How do you know _ ?” 

He seemed to struggle with the words for a second. “Because I have experience…” he suddenly switched to English. “In college, I had a friend who was asexual. There was nothing wrong with him, he just didn’t respond to sex like everyone else. And if you honestly didn’t… if you don’t think you ever felt the urge… no, if you feel like you’re different from everyone else, maybe you should look into it more.”

Yuri blinked. "Asexual?”

“There’s no yes or no answer, but if you… uh. Maybe trying reading up on it online. I can’t really tell you  what you're thinking or how you’re feeling. It might be worth a shot. Just, you’re not broken. Don’t ever think that.”

“Asexual?” he repeated. “Doesn’t that have something to do with like plants or fungus?”

“What?”

“In biology?” 

“Oh! No, not like that. People can be asexual. It just means you respond different to sexual attraction and situations. You’ve never… in school or with friends?”

Yuri sent him a blank stare. “I don’t have friends. And I haven’t been to a real school since I was like ten.” 

He pulled his mouth into a thin line, and moved so quickly that Yuri was nearly winded when he yanked him into a tight hug. 

“What the hell, Katsudon?” 

“Nothing, nothing. It’s nothing.” He didn’t let go, and hugged him tighter. Yuri’s windpipe was crushed against his shoulder. “Just, if you ever need any help, or just want someone to talk to about this, I’m here.”

Yuri cleared his throat, trying to push him away. “Yeah, whatever. Let go of me.” Otabek was a good listener too, but it was strange that it was Katsudon who knew what he was talking about. 

He let go after Makkachin started barking and jumped up onto the couch behind him, resting his front paws against his shoulder and licking his neck. He chuckled, reaching around to scratch the dog’s ears. “Seriously, I mean it. Figuring out your sexuality can be tough, and I don’t ever want you to feel like no one understands you or cares.”

Yuri licked his lips. “Are you? Asexual I mean.”

He shook his head slowly. “No, but I do know a bit about it. See if you can read up about it a bit, then we’ll talk more if you think it makes a bit more sense.” He smiled.

Yuri nodded, watching as Katsudon reached to the coffee table for his cup of tea. They sat in silence for a while, Yuri stewing in all the new information while Katsudon picked up his phone. “Uh, Yuuri?” 

Katsudon’s head snapped towards him. 

“Uh, thanks.”

Katsudon’s eyes went wide. He did a little jump and fumbled with his cup until the tea sloshed over the sides and spilt onto his hands and lap. “Fuck! Uh, I mean... ” He set the mug down on the floor shaking his hands and hissing. “Sorry, um. You’re welcome.”

Yuri snickered. “So, you do know how to curse.”

Katsudon scoffed softly, a light blush rising on his cheeks. “So,  _ you  _ know how to be nice.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the start of how Yuri and Yuuri got to be such close friends :)
> 
> I also started a drabble series based a little after 'Lay me Bare' (work #5 in this series), where Yuri keeps on sending Otabek sexy pictures to get a rise out of him. You can read them over on [Tumblr](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/post/171607493717/really-yura-1) I'll be using the tag WGAPdrabbles just to make things easier to search. Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> And here's a[Deleted Scene](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/post/171727078097/ttdms-deleted-scene-chapter-4) from this chapter.  
>   
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>   
> This fic will be updated **every other week** so the next update will be on **March 24th** \- if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my [Tumblr](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/) :)


	5. Chapter 5

“What are you doing, Yurochka?” Lilia asked sharply, poking her head into his room. 

Yuri was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the entire contents of his closet and trying to decide what to bring with him to Almaty. He was only going for two weeks, but he had no clue what to bring. He knew it was going to be hot as fuck, and there was no way only five pairs of shorts were going to be enough. Also what if Otabek’s family was like super snobby? They were kind of rich after all. That would mean he’d have to dress nice and couldn’t wear the same thing twice. Ugh, why had he told Otabek he would come? 

“That is not how you pack a suitcase.” Lilia peered over his shoulder. “And I know you won’t think of ironing anything in Almaty; so fold them properly.”

He wrinkled his nose. “It’s fine.”

“No.” she folded her arms across his chest. “Pass them to me. Watching you pack like that is going to give me a migraine.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes. Okay, so folding wasn’t in his talent set. Sue him. 

“Do you have Otabek’s number?” Lilia asked sitting down on the edge of the bed after inspecting it thoroughly. 

“Yes.” Yuri raised an eyebrow, handing her the pile of clothes he had tossed into his suitcase. “I message him almost every day.”

“And his address?” she shook out the topmost shirt, wrinkling her nose and began to fold it  _ properly _ . 

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“Huh?”

“The address.”

“I don’t know it by heart. It’s in my phone.”

“Show me.”

Yuri narrowed his eyes. “You don’t believe I have it?”

“I want you to be safe. Now show me where it is.” 

“I’ll be fine,” he grumbled, taking the newly folded clothes she was handing him. 

“You’ve never been to Almaty before.”

“It can’t be worse than Moscow.”

“You haven’t lived in Moscow for a while.”

“I’m not  _ moving to Almaty _ .”

She paused to inspect one of his shirts, but Yuri knew her mind was elsewhere. “Call me when you land.”

“Yeah.” 

“And be  _ careful _ , Yurochka. I know how you get around that boy.”

_ What _ ? Yuri’s eyes went wide as he looked up to read her face. “What?” 

She raised an eyebrow, before huffing in amusement. “Just keep a level head.” He rolled his eyes, looking down into his lap, and picking at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. They were silent for a while as Yuri wracked his brain trying to figure out what she meant by that. 

“I don’t see your suppressants or birth control in there, Yurochka-”

Yuri’s ears started to steam immediately. “I haven’t packed that stuff yet!” 

She sniffed, and he hunched over, pulling his hood over his head. 

“Make sure you don’t forget.” She stood up, dusting off her lap. “If you end up pregnant, your career will suffer-”

“Oh my god!” His voice came out high and scratchy. “That’s  _ not _ going to happen!”  

She sniffed. “ _ Be careful _ .” 

Ugh. He’d talked more with Katsudon about being asexual. It had been a weird month, but the two of them had ended up spending nights together talking and just trying to figure everything out. He would never admit it aloud, but he was glad that Katsudon had decided to move to Saint Petersburg; he would have been lost without him. 

They had watched a few documentaries while Viktor had to travel for a few weeks for some sort of sponsorship function. Katsudon kept on poking him to stay awake or paused the TV when he saw that Yuri was getting antsy from sitting down for too long. They ended up spending an entire night just talking, and that was the weirdest thing of it all. He was  _ Katsudon _ , the annoying and soft crybaby, but who also was the best listener Yuri had ever met. He didn’t know how he did it, but there was no sort of judgement or pitying on his face when they hit the hard stuff. He always knew what to say that didn’t make him feel like a child or clueless. The rising sun had taken them both by surprise, and Katsudon had chuckled before ushering Yuri to bed with the excuse that he had to pick up Viktor from the airport and he needed at least four hours of sleep before he let himself drive. 

Fucking Katsudon. Who would have guessed. 

Things kind of made sense now; why he didn’t want to have sex, or why he hadn’t really considered it to be part of his life before. It made sense why he felt so delayed or left out when Mila, Viktor, Chris, or Georgi talked about their latest one-night-stand or who they wanted to bang next. He didn’t want it, and he probably would never want it. And, Katsudon had assured him, that was okay. Everyone who was convinced that he was just a late bloomer and once he presented he would  _get_ it, everyone who had called him a baby and had made fun of him for never having a boyfriend or girlfriend before, e veryone who had laughed at him for being a virgin, could go suck it. It still felt kind of weird though, but a relieved sort of weird. Then Katsudon had literally bounced up and down, getting Makkachin riled up, when Yuri had said the words aloud. 

“I’m asexual.” 

He had made a five different kinds of sushi to celebrate. Yuri vaguely remembered telling him that he liked sushi once, but the kitchen had been turned into a war-zone with rice everywhere and music blasting through Katsudon’s tiny bluetooth speaker. Viktor was let into the loop when he walked in on Katsudon singing into a massive knife, while Yuri danced along, trying to get a few rice grains out of his hair and the bamboo mat Katsudon had used to roll the sushi with. He seemed surprised and a bit confused at Yuri's announcement, but after Katsudon glared at him he kept his mouth shut. Yuri hadn’t told anyone else, though. 

So, no Lilia, he wasn’t going to come back pregnant. 

 

“I’m just going to apologise now,” Otabek grumbled, tapping his finger on the steering wheel. Yuri didn’t think he’d ever been inside a car this expensive, and he knew Range Rovers could get pretty pricey. This one still had the new car smell. He was scared to sit down, like what if he scratched the leather seats somehow?

“Why?” Yuri tilted his head, holding onto his knees. He still couldn’t believe that he was here in Almaty with Otabek. He had slept for most of the flight, and everything in the airport had been a weird mixture of Russian, what he assumed was Kazakh, and even a few english words mixed in here and there. His brain was still trying to catch up as he watched the city zoom past as Otabek drove along the highway. So, this was Almaty, this was Otabek’s home. 

Otabek glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, switching lanes  and weaving between a few other cars so suddenly that Yuri nearly breathed out his soul. The car now behind them honked angrily. 

“Beka!” he screeched. “God, I just got here, I don’t want to die!” 

Otabek chuckled softly. “Please, Yura. I know how to handle a car.” 

He probably did, but still. “This is a fucking SUV not a sports car.”

“Please, this engine is a 557 horsepower supercharged V8. Some of the  _ sports cars _ here don’t even reach 510.” 

Yuri’s eyes glazed over. “You’re such a nerd.” His sentence ended in a scream when Otabek changed lanes again. Yuri didn’t know what the speed limit was here, but he was sure Otabek had left it behind at the airport. 

“I chose this car for a reason.” He grinned, eyes flickering up to the rearview mirror. 

Yuri was just praying that he didn’t hear any sirens. “This is  _ your  _ car?”

“No, it’s  _ technically  _ my mom’s, but I picked it cause I’d drive it when I’m home.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. He knew Otabek had a thing for motorbikes, but he hadn’t thought it would have extended to cars as well. 

“You said you had to apologise for something?” 

“Yeah, uh, we’re kind of having a family dinner tonight. Well not  _ everyone _ , just my brothers and maybe one of my sisters, and their kids. It might, no, it _will_ be a bit… hectic.” 

Yuri blinked. “Oh, that’s fine.”

He huffed. “You won’t say that when you meet them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How many siblings do you have?” 

“I never told you?”

“Nope.”

“Four. Two brothers and two sisters. I’m the last-”

“Awww, baby Beka.”

He sent Yuri an annoyed grimace. “Don’t even joke about that.” 

Yuri snorted. “Why?”

“Because Maalik, the one closest in age to me, is like thirteen years older than me.”

“Oh my God. You were a surprise baby!” He turned his body to face him as much as his seatbelt would let him. 

Otabek’s cheeks were turning red and he was suddenly entirely focused on the road. “Yura-”

“It’s okay. I was an accident too.” 

Otabek exhaled roughly through his nose. “Yura, you can’t just… say that.”

“What?” Yuri shrugged. “I’m not ashamed of it. And it’s like a, uh, bonding point. Something we have in common, right?” 

Otabek chuckled until his shoulders began to shake. Yuri shuffled in his seat, biting his lip to hold back a smile.

 

Twenty minutes later, Otabek had turned into a residential area, that was littered with houses so big they looked like hotels. Yuri had tried not to look surprised by the mansion Otabek drove up to. He failed; nearly pressing his chest to the dashboard with his eyes wide and jaw slack.

“You live here?” he whispered. He had to be dreaming right?

“Uh, yeah.” Otabek answered, biting his lip. 

They drove past a security station and Otabek introduced him to the guard. Then he drove up a long driveway with freaking lamp posts and hanging flower baskets lined with a flowering hedge. The house - mansion - itself was only two stories, but it was wide with huge glass windows, grey stone-work and white window frames. The front door alone looked like it cost more than Grandpa’s entire house. Yuri waited for him to pull up outside the door, or park in the driveway, but he took a sharp right, driving around the side of the house, down a ramp to a fucking underground garage.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grumbled, as a line of actual sports cars and luxury SUVs came into view. “You know what just turn around, bring me back to the airport.”

Otabek insisted on carrying his suitcase up a narrow flight of stairs. Yuri had to hand it to him, he had nearly been overweight. His biceps bulged with effort, though. He shouldered open a door to what Yuri could assume was an actual foyer and he was suddenly staring through a glass door to a courtyard with a fucking fountain. He swallowed. What the actual fuck? Was Otabek secretly Kazakhstani royalty? Why was he so fucking rich?

“Beka.” He turned around, feeling his heartbeat through his t-shirt. “What the hell-”

“Beka is that you?” A woman’s voice called loudly.

Otabek nudged Yuri’s suitcase to the side. “I’ll show you to your room later-”

“ _ You didn’t tell me you were fucking rich _ .” Yuri hissed. 

Otabek’s cheeks turned red. “Must have slipped my mind.”

“Are you seri-”

“Otabek?”

“Yes, Ma, it’s me!” he yelled over his shoulder and Yuri jumped. Ma? His mom? Oh God.  _ Why  _ was he so nervous? He wrapped an arm tightly around his stomach.

“Come.” Otabek gently grabbed his elbow; his fingers tickled. “Oh wait, shoes.” Yuri looked down, honestly feeling like he was about to fall over. “Yura?”

He snapped to action, toeing off his sneakers. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go.”

He lead Yuri through a living room that looked like it had never been used. The couches were the kind with carved wooden feet - kind of antique but looked way too new and clean. The floor was a shiny dark wood and all the furniture was white and not a single thing was out of place. There were vases full of fresh flowers that looked way too good to be fake, and although there weren’t as many ornaments as Lilia had, he was still too scared to breathe too hard. From the picture frames, and abstract art pieces, to the light curtains and clawfoot end tables, everything looked easily breakable. The only bit of colour was a dark red, black, and cream Turkish rug in the middle of the room, but that was so clean he walked around it. 

Otabek lead him around a corner and they brushed past a long dining table, with more flowers and chairs with seats that matched the curtains and placemats. The thick aroma of spices, onions, and simmering meat hit him in the face, but Yuri didn’t get much time to even think about it before a woman with wavy, jet-black hair and warm brown eyes like Otabek’s stepped into the room. She was thin, small and dressed in a knee-length, blue dress and a bright, yellow apron. 

“Hi Ma,” Otabek said, going over to give her a peck on the cheek. She was still slightly taller than him; Yuri was definitely going to tease him about it later, but right now his brain wasn’t quite working.

He stood frozen, especially since more people began to filter into the room. An old woman with a rolling walker appeared out of nowhere, and a younger woman with black, shoulder-length hair, carried a dish to the table. A man with a grin and short, wavy hair popped out from behind Yuri and a version of Otabek who had circular, wire-framed glasses, and greying hair followed shortly after. He could hear his own heartbeat. 

“And this must be Yuri?” 

His attention snapped back to the woman - Otabek’s mom - who was staring at him with a wide smile. He didn’t know whether to be scared or comforted. He chose scared when everyone in the room zeroed in on him. “But you’re so beautiful!” 

He blinked. Okay, he hadn’t been expecting  _ that _ . Beautiful? He had just spent the last five hours on a plane; he could feel the grease layered on his forehead and nose and the grime that gathered from stale airplane air and running through airports with a fifteen pound bag on his back. He knew for a fact that his eyeliner was smudged enough to make him look like he had a black eye. “Uh, thank you.” Otabek rolled his eyes, stepping back over to him and clamping a hand to his shoulder. 

“The pictures Beka showed us of you don’t make you look half as pretty,” she continued, stepping up to him as well. Was that a compliment? “Alma Altin, Beka’s mother.” She held out her hand. Yuri was almost too scared to shake it. 

Manners, Plisetsky; he could already picture his grandpa’s irritated glare. “Uh, thank you for having me.” 

“Oh, we’re more than happy to. Would you look at that hair.”

“Ma,” Otabek grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders. “Anyway, Yura, that’s my dad.” He guided Yuri into a half turn. The older version of Otabek stepped forward to shake Yuri’s hand as well. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Yuri,” he said. His voice was surprisingly quite, but firm. He could see where most of Otabek’s genes had come from. Except his eyes. His dad’s eyes were light amber. And his height must have been some sort of a throwback gene. “We’ve been awaiting your arrival the entire week.”

Yuri smiled, unsure what to say, but Otabek pointed to the other man. “This is  my brother, Maalik, my sister, Adil, and my grandmother.” 

He smiled politely at all of them in turn. But then two more women popped out of the kitchen, and Yuri wondered when it was going to end. Apparently, they were Otabek’s brothers’ wives so that meant his other brother - and his  _ kids _ \- were around somewhere. Why was this family so big?  _ And _ there was another sister  _ and  _ her spouse and kid who hadn’t been able to make it. Otabek’s mom had apologised, but Yuri was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that everyone in the room was directly related. Was he sweating? He fanned himself with his shirt collar; he was sure that he was sweating. 

“Has Otabek showed you your room yet?” Otabek’s mother asked. “I’m sure you’d like to freshen up a bit before dinner. We still have a few more things in the oven.” Yuri glanced to the table which was already almost full with dishes. He was trying his hardest not to stare, hoping his stomach would stay dormant.

“Uh, yes please.” He nearly jumped when he felt a hand against the small of his back, but it was only Otabek guiding him away from the crowd. He leaned against his side, thankful for the escape. He did feel gross, and now that Otabek’s mother had pointed it out, all he wanted was a long, hot shower. 

He watched Otabek’s brother clasp his shoulder, mutter something in Kazakh, and grin deviously. Otabek rolled his eyes, sounding almost annoyed as he answered in Kazakh as well.  Yuri couldn’t help but feel that they were talking about him, especially with the way Otabek’s brother was looking at him. He glanced to Otabek, surprised to see that his cheeks were slightly red. 

“So, this is it,” Otabek said, opening his arms wide. The guest room - one of the guest rooms - looked like a luxury hotel suite. He had a four-poster, king-sized bed with enough pillows to outfit an orphanage. Heavy, grey, brocade curtains covered an enormous window, which actually turned out to be a french balcony, floor-to-ceiling glass doors with a thin, white metal railing running across. He looked out over the darkening grounds before letting the curtain fall back int place. He turned around still scanning the room. He had his own vanity, a full-length mirror, and chest of drawers, along with a built-in closet that took up nearly an entire wall. There was a vase of fresh flowers on his night-stand, and a white, angora rug to the side of the bed. Plus, everything smelled a bit like potpourri. 

“Bathroom’s through there.” Otabek pointed to a closed door right next to the vanity.  “If you want to shower now-”

“Holy shit, Altin, what are you, royalty?” Yuri crossed the room, sitting down on the small, backless settee at the foot of the bed. Otabek’s cheeks turned the slightest bit red. “What the hell?”

“It’s mostly old money,” he shrugged, joining him. “We own an oil company and stuff.” 

“I’m surprised you don’t travel anywhere with a bodyguard.” 

He shrugged again, leaning against one of the armrests. “It’s not that big of a deal.” 

“Yes it is!” He tucked his legs under himself, knees pulling uncomfortably at his tight jeans. He could never bring Otabek home to Moscow now. Not when he’d have to give up his room for him, or ask him to share a bathroom with his grandpa. 

“It’s really not.” 

“I feel so out of place…”

“Why?” He shuffled closer, raising an eyebrow. 

Yuri unfolded his legs, bringing them up to his chest and winding his arms around them. “ _ Why _ ? Grandpa and I weren’t exactly rolling around in money. I mean, my mom would send cheques every so often, but then Grandpa got sick… if I hadn’t gone professional who knows what would have happened to us.” He pressed his forehead to his knees. 

Otabek was silent for a few moments before he grabbed Yuri’s hand. “I… I didn’t know.”

Yuri shrugged; his cheeks started to burn. They really were from two different worlds. “Don’t really have to worry about that anymore. Not since sponsors and shit.” 

“I really should have given you some warning, huh?” Otabek asked sheepishly, stroking Yuri’s knuckles.

“You think?” Yuri snapped, but there was no heat behind it. “Well, guess I don't have to feel guilty why you buy me food any more.” 

Otabek chuckled softly. “No, but really. Don’t feel out of place. I promise not a single one of us is snobby, or care at all about, like, superficial things. My dad made us all work for allowances and save up money ourselves if we wanted to buy anything.”

“Really?” 

He squeezed Yuri’s thumb between his thumb and index finger. “I had to pay for Yakov’s training camp, by volunteering for three weeks at an animal shelter.”

“ _ Really _ ?” 

“I guess it’s been like that for a while. My Grandpa used to be even more strict. I guess they didn’t want the family to end up with a bunch of lazy, entitled assholes, sapping money from the company and turning the family name to shit.” 

Yuri snorted, leaning his head against his shoulder. “That’s cool. Weird, but cool.”Of course the Altin’s would have been exceptions to the rule. They probably had like five charitable organisations set up. 

Otabek shrugged again. “I’m kinda glad for it, though. Trust me, I know what assholes rich people can be.” 

Yuri grinned, butting his side with his elbow. “Good. I was kinda scared that I’d have to stop hanging out with you.”

“Then I’d just pay you to.” 

Yuri punched his shoulder. “I hate you.”

Otabek chuckled and rubbing his arm.

 

The Altins really were a bunch of nice people. Otabek’s mom kept on insisting that he take more food and everyone made sure to include him in their conversations, stopping to translate things to Russian if they drifted into Kazakh. Though, he was still happy to see that Otabek’s sister’s husband was of Russian descent and was almost as pale as him. His name was Alisher, he’d been born in Almaty, but he had blond-brown hair and light grey eyes. Yuri didn’t feel that out of place, even if he had never been to Russia before. Otabek’s eldest brother, Kerim, was just as soft spoken as Otabek and his father, but he smiled way more. The younger brother was the loudest of everyone. Maalik, if yuri repeated his name to himself enough times, he was bound to remember it. Yuri was seated across from two young boys’ one who kept on stealing glances at him and blushing and a smaller one who was more interested in his food than anything else. They were Kerim’s children. He also had a daughter, but she was with her mother on the other side of the table. He was almost sad when the women began clearing up everyone’s empty plates. 

“What did you think of them?” Otabek asked, as Yuri wondered around his bedroom. 

So  _ this  _ was what was on the other side of the FaceTime screen. Everything was fucking white, from his bedside mat, to the sheets and curtains. A bookshelf bisected his room, creating a sort of nook for his computer desk, where he had two monitors - an iMac and something else that looked just as expensive, a sound board, and some other music equipment. He also had a few small potted plants on the bookshelf and his nightstand. He had his own bathroom, with a shower wide enough to dance in and a balcony, although both of those were shared with the room next door. Which was kind of weird, because, the only people who lived in the house were Otabek, his parents and his grandmother. It all seemed kind of excessive. He sat down on the edge of the bed, having to jump slightly to even get on, and yanked one of his pillows to his stomach. 

“I like them,” he announced. “I’m never going to remember everyone’s names, though.”

Otabek grinned. “You’ll get it eventually.”

Yuri flopped onto his back, bouncing against the mattress. His stomach was so full that he could barely breathe. Lilia would be so disappointed in him. He rubbed his stomach with one hand, stretching the other over his head, grabbing Otabek’s ankle when his fingers brushed against it. 

“Hey, thanks for inviting me here,” he mumbled. 

He felt Otabek’s fingers against his wrist. “I’m happy you could come.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as Yuri stroked Otabek’s ankle and he stroked his wrist. He should have been tired from all the travel and his huge meal, but his skin was buzzing, itching with the need to  _ do  _  something. 

“Do you have anything planned for my time here?” he rolled onto his stomach, pulling himself higher up on the bed.

Otabek waited for him to settle again before answering. “Yeah, we can do all the fun tourist things. But I was going to introduce you to my friends tomorrow. They all have some time between classes, we’ll meet them at my cousin’s house and figure out things from there.” 

“Okay.” he bit his lip. “What about now?”

“You’re not tired?” 

He shook his head. 

“Uh, what about a movie?” 

“Sure.” 

“You pick.” He grabbed a remote from his night stand, flicked on the television mounted to the wall and pulled up Netflix.

They had just settled against the pillows, the comforter pulled up to their waists and the lights off when Otabek’s door flew open. 

“Dad,” Otabek whined, and Yuri blinked. He had never heard that tone of voice from him before. 

Otabek’s dad paused, peering at the two of them with narrowed eyes. Yuri’s spine began to itch at the scrutiny. “What are you doing?”

“Watching a movie,” Otabek groused, still sounding unbelievably whiney. “Do you need something?”

He blinked a few times then turned around. “No. Do you have training tomorrow?”

“No, I finished training three weeks ago.”

He hummed. “Okay, well don't stay up too late. Good night. You too, Yuri.” He paused at the door, making to walk off but hesitating. “Keep this open.” 

Yuri raised an eyebrow as Otabek sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why does he want us to keep the door open?” Yuri asked.

Otabek pushed his hair from his forehead, and even in the dim light of the television Yuri could tell he was blushing. “So we don’t have sex.”

“ _ What _ ?” Yuri jumped backwards and would have fallen off the side of the bed if Otabek hand lunged forward and grabbed him. He spluttered, his cheeks definitely on fire. “ _ Why _ ?”

Otabek shurgged. “I don’t know. I guess we’re just horny teenagers who can’t control ourselves.”

Yuri snorted. “Right.” 

And that was another conversation he needed to have with Otabek. 

 

Yuri was hesitant to follow Otabek up the stairs. He’d let them in with his own key, but Yuri still felt like he was intruding. This house was a bit more modern and minimalist than Otabek’s, but the Altins seem to have a thing for white and neutral colours. 

“I told them we’re here,” Otabek said leading Yuri down a sparsely decorated hallway. He was already hearing loud voices from an open door and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. God, why was he so nervous? It wasn’t like this was his first time meeting people. God, he made himself sound like a shut-in. 

This must have been Otabek’s cousin’s room, but he felt like he was walking into a magazine. If it wasn’t for the people scattered around the room he would have been looking for the lights and cameras. All of their heads swivelled towards him and for the second time in two days, he felt like melting through the floor. 

“Hey guys.” Otabek said, guiding Yuri further into the room with a hand between his shoulder blades. “This is Yuri.”

“Uh, hi.” Yuri waved, feeling his cheeks heat. 

“So this is the famous Yuri Plisetsky. Beka talks about you non-stop; we were wondering when he was going to drag you to Almaty.”

“Shut up, Bal,” Otabek grumbled.  _ This  _ was Bal. 

“It’s the truth, though.” Yuri turned to the one that looked similar to Otabek - it was something about the shape of his face and how his eyes were set. He was sitting in a padded desk chair, but had swivelled it around when they entered. That must have been his cousin. Isaac? 

Otabek sighed as Yuri felt his blush deepen. 

“You talk about me?”

“All the time,” Isaac said, smirking. 

He turned back to Otabek. “Why? About what?”

“Mostly skating. Nothing too dangerous,” Isaac explained, getting up from his seat. He crossed the room in a few quick steps and held out his hand. “Iska. I’m Beka’s cousin, I know he hasn’t told you about any of us. That’s Bal,” he pointed to the tall one with bulging biceps, and a ponytail. “Roza.” A girl with perfect, dark, wavy hair, and leather shorts gave him a short wave from her position sprawled across the bed. “And Camran.” Oh, there was a gangly looking guy curled up in an armchair across from the bed. He had short dark hair and wide brown eyes with eyelashes longer than Otabek’s, that, at the moment, were sizing Yuri up and down. Yuri shoved his hands into his pockets, looking away as his stomach began to churn more violently. 

“So, what do you think of Almaty so far?” Roza asked, tilting her head to the side. Holy shit, her cheek bones were highlighted to perfection. God, he was so out of his league with these people. 

“It, uh, seems nice. I only got here yesterday, though.” He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. 

“We haven’t had the chance to go around yet,” Otabek mumbled. 

“How long are you here for?” Iska asked. 

“Two weeks.”

“Perfect, you’ll be here for  _ Summer Aura _ .”

“Huh?”

“It’s a really big party at one the best hotels in Almaty. The organizers rent the pool floor and it’s free drinks all night. I got Beka a spot in the entertainment line-up, so we all get free tickets. I’ll get one for you too.” 

Bal snickered. “Yeah, what better introduction to Almaty is there than one of the biggest parties of the summer?” 

“Oh.” He suddenly felt breathless. 

“You like parties right?” Iska asked, raising an eyebrow and Yuri could not get over the family resemblance. It was like the entire country was full of Otabeks. 

“Uh yeah.” 

Otabek nudged him softly. “He’s a dancer too.”

His face went even hotter. How was that possible? “Just ballet.” 

“That’s cool,” Roza said, sitting up. “ I don’t think any of us could do what you guys do on land. Much less on ice. On  _ blades _ .” 

Otabek snickered softly. “No really, Yura, you should see them. The only one who can actually do something is… Bal, surprisingly.” 

“ _ Surprisingly _ ?” Bal narrowed his eyes at Otabek. 

Otabek quirked an eyebrow, daring him to go on. Yuri nearly gapped at this openly playful side to him. Of course he would have friends, that he’d probably grown up with. Of course Yuri wouldn’t have been part of this life. Could he even catch up? What was one year compared to like nineteen?

“Boys, behave,” Roza said, clapping her hands. “No fighting in front of the guest.” 

Yeah, a guest. That’s what he was. He swallowed, knowing now that this anxiety wasn’t going to go away. 

“Uh, where’s the bathroom?”

“Right through there,” Iska pointed to a door on the other side of the room. Of course he would have his own bathroom. 

The door had barely shut behind him when he heard Bal whisper-shout, “Did you see his ass?” He paused, eyes going wide and he pressed his ear to the door. “Holy shit, Beka, he’s  _ hot _ .” Yuri bit his lip, a strange fluffy feeling bloomed in his chest. 

“He’s also  _ seventeen _ ,” Otabek’s voice was gruff. 

“Still hot.” 

“You guys are disgusting,” a new voice spoke up. 

“He’s much cuter in person.”

“You too, Iska?” 

“Facts.” 

Yuri swallowed, stepping away from the door and leaning against the marble sink counter. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t going as bad as he had thought.

When he went back out into the room, after just taking a few minutes to breathe, Otabek had moved to the bed and was lookint at something on Bal’s phone. He patted the mattress next to him when he saw Yuri. he hesitated, seeing that Camran had moved from his chair and that he’d have to sit next to him. 

It was no big deal, Plisetsky. Everyone was on his case to make new friends anyway. 

Camran shuffled away, still sizing Yuri up as he sat down. Okay, this was the definition of uncomfortable. He could feel the heat from his stare. Did he not like him or something? He hadn’t really said or done anything. Biting his lip, he pulled out his phone and tapped open the messaging app. He picked his most recent chat and typed out ‘help’ before reading who he had sent it too.

Katsudon:   
What’s wrong?

At least _he_ was always quick to respond. Yuri sighed internally.  

Me:   
I need to look like I’m busy 

Katsudon:   
Aren’t you with Otabek?

Me:   
Yeah, but he’s with his friends and they’re all talking and idk what to do

Katsudon:   
So, make friends with them

Me:   
It’s not that easy!

Katsudon:   
Just talk to them

Me:   
About what?! 

Katsudon:   
Oh my god    
You’re a lost cause 

Me:   
You’re not helping

He sent a picture of Makkachin with a stuffed toy in his mouth in response. Yuri groaned, setting his phone down on his lap.

“Is that your dog?” Camran asked softly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to look at your screen.”

Yuri jumped, picking up his phone. “Uh, no.” He paused; there had been a sort of spark in his eyes. Okay, he swallowed. Start a conversation, like what Katsudon had said. “He’s my rink-mate’s, well former rink-mate.” He shuffled closer, tilting his phone screen so Camran could see better. “His name is Makkachin.”

Camran’s entire face softened. “He’s adorable.” 

Yuri sighed in relief. “Yeah. He’s a giant ball of fluff and slobber.”

“I love that colour.”

“Uh, it’s chocolate, I think.”

“Yeah, it’s chocolate. Poodles only come in four colours.”

Yuri honestly didn’t know that much about dogs.“Probably. He’s pretty old, though, but he still acts like a puppy.” 

Camran grinned. “Dogs are big babies to the end.” He picked up his own phone, swiping through a few things before showing Yuri. “This is Naz.” A toffee coloured pomeranian stared back at him, panting with its tongue hanging out the side of its mouth. 

Yuri grinned. “That’s adorable.”

“I’ve had him for five years, he’s so spoiled though.”

Yuri scoffed, tapping open his album of Potya. “This is Potya, she’s an actual princess.” 

“She’s beautiful, her eyes…” 

“Yeah, her breed’s known for their blue eyes.” He swiped to a video of her playing with Makkachin; they had been chasing each other around Viktor’s coffee table until she jumped on top of it, zoomed across and onto Makkachin’s back. The dog’s tail was a blur, and Yuri had never seen an animal look so confused before. Camran cooed, clutching at the front of his shirt.

“You’ll have to come over to meet Naz sometime. He grew up with my parent’s cat, so I’m not entirely sure he knows he’s a dog.” 

Yuri chuckled. “That would be great, actually.” 

It was only then he realised that the others were staring at them looking almost stricken. Camran’s shoulders came up to his ears and he looked away.

“Well, that didn’t take long at all,” Bal snickered. 

“Huh?”

“You found one of Camran’s two weaknesses.”  He was still confused.  “Animals and _The Lord of the Rings_ series. He’ll talk for hours about either one.”

“Shut up,” Camran mumbled. “I will not.” 

Bal grinned. 

Yuri tilted his head to the side. “ _The Lord of the Rings_? Is that one where all the memes are from?” 

Camran’s head swivelled towards him and Yuri practically felt the room hold its breath. “You’ve never seen _The Lord of the Rings_?” He almost sounded insulted.

“Uh, no?”

Otabek sighed heavily. “Well there goes our plans for the weekend.”

“Goes your plans?” Iska chuckled. “You now  _ have  _ plans. Hope you don’t mind sitting down for nine hours of movies, Yuri.”

“ _ Nine  _ hours?”

“Yeah. Three movies they’re all around three hours long.” 

“Actually-”

“We all know you’re going to make us watch the extended versions,” Bal  cut him off. 

Yuri chuckled. Okay, well maybe making friends wasn’t actually so hard. These two weeks were going to amazing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Deleted Scene](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/post/172205932537/the-title-doesnt-make-sense-deleted-scene)   
>    
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>   
>  This fic will be updated **every other week** so the next update will be on **April 7th** \- if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my [Tumblr](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/) :)


	6. Chapter 6

Yuri stood frozen to the spot behind his door when Roza and Camran barged in, each with a duffle bag slung over their shoulders.

“Uh…” Yuri wasn’t even sure what was going on. Just that the party was some time this afternoon and they were supposed to get ready together. He hadn’t even seen Mila look this serious about dressing up before. Wasn’t it just a pool party, though?

“What are you wearing?” Camran asked brightly, hopping onto the edge of the bed and tossing his bag to the middle.

“I dunno,” Yuri wondered in after them, suddenly nervous again. “Trunks?” He’d brought a few pairs; otabek had mentioned that he had a pool.

Roza raised an eyebrow, and fuck she had to have gotten them done professionally, because they - she - was just that perfect. It wasn’t the first time he wished that his hair wasn’t so light that it looked like he didn’t even have eyebrows sometimes.

“Let’s see,” she said.

Yuri shrugged, heading over to his suitcase. “Just how fancy is this party?”

“Really, fancy,” Camran answered.

“Oh.” Well fuck. He didn’t have anything then. He bit his lip, pausing hunched over his closed suitcase. “I don’t have anything fancy.”

“I can lend you something, if you want.”

“Uh…”

“We’re around the same size,” he tilted his head, smiling slightly.

Yuri bit his lip harder. God, were they all rich? Swimsuits were just to swim in; why did they have to be fancy?

“Let’s see what you have,” Roza suggested. “And maybe we can dress it up.”

His cheeks burned as he pulled out his trunks. Yeah, they weren’t going to cut it.

Roza hummed, wrinkling her nose. “Maybe something sexier.”

Yuri swallowed. He should just stay home. He didn’t know a thing about Almaty, it’s parties, or how to dress, apparently. He wrapped an arm around his waist, slinking away from his suitcase. Camran hopped off the bed, crossing over to Yuri with a few quick strides and pulled him close to the bed.

“Actually, you might be smaller than me, holy shit!” Yuri felt hands circling his waist. “Roza, look at this, he’s tiny!”

Yuri’s cheeks were burning. He wasn't even that tiny; Camran's fingers weren't close to touching.

Still, he had thought that Camran would have been mad at him after he fell asleep less than thirty minutes into the first _Lord of the Rings_ movie. He had woken up to a paused screen and the others talking in hushed voices around him. He had thought that he would have died of embarrassment, especially after Bal had posted a picture of him curled around a pillow to Instagram and tagged him. A couple of his fans had taken less than ten minutes to start cooing at how cute he looked. They had given up on the movies afterwards and went out to a small outdoor restaurant for lunch. Camran had been pretty quiet for most of the day, except when a group of pre-teens came up to Otabek to ask for his autograph. He had looked annoyed for a split second before turning to Yuri and asking if Otabek had told him that he was a celebrity.

Roza laughed. “I told you, figure skating takes a lot of core strength. You’ve seen Beka’s abs.”

He guessed Camran wasn’t mad at all. “Ugh, I’m so jealous.”  He let his hands fall from Yuri’s waist, jumping back onto the bed and leaving Yuri standing awkwardly on the rug.

Roza rolled her eyes, but smirked. “Well, there’s a simple solution to that.”

“Hey, I run.”

“Cardio isn’t core; tell him, Yuri.”

“Um…”

Roza chuckled. “Anyway, Camran, let’s see what you have.”

Camran had tossed a metallic, gold swimsuit at him and Yuri almost refused to come out of the bathroom with it on. It was a one-piece with a plunging neckline, but that wasn’t a problem - he didn’t have boobs. It was extremely high-cut and literally his entire ass was out. The front wasn’t a problem, he knew they made one-piece swimsuits for male omegas and it kind of worked like his dance belt, smoothing out any lumps and whatnot, but his ass was out. He couldn’t wear this.

“Does it fit?” Camran called through the door.

Yuri glared at himself in the mirror, biting his lip and trying to pull the suit out of his ass crack. “Uh, kind of.”

“Kind of? Is it too big?”

“No…” he took a deep breath. “Is it supposed to... Uh, you can see my butt.”

There was laughter from the otherside of the door and Yuri watched his face go red.

“Yeah, it’s supposed to do that,” Camran called back. “Let’s see.”

Yuri held his breath as he stepped back out into the room. Both Roza and Camran turned to watch him and froze.

“Okay,” Camran took a deep breath. “I’m trying my hardest not to hate you right now.” Yuri’s stomach dropped to his feet, and a sort of shaky, cold feeling exploded in his stomach. “How are you so perfect? Roza, are you even seeing this?”

Yuri swallowed, perfect? He was so pale that he could pass for a vampire, he was way too skinny, and his face got so oily that he could probably bottle it. And he broke out all the time. Not to mention his feet were a mess; he had more bruises, corns, and blisters than skin. Perfect? Definitely not. Not when both Camran and Roza were standing in front of him in their golden, tanned glory. Camran was in a black, velvet bikini bottom and a thin, gold body chain, while Roza had on a scalloped, wine-coloured bikini, with a high-waisted bottom and a one-shoulder top, and large hoop earrings. He wrapped an arm around his waist, curling around it. He honestly didn't fit in with them. 

“Do you have any shorts?” Roza asked, smiling.

“Yeah, I brought a couple.” The tighter he held his stomach, the more it hurt.

“Light denim preferably.”

Yeah he had those. He shuffled to his suitcase, tugging at the bottom of the suit as he walked. His pants were pretty short, and Lilia always shook her head at him when he wore them. But he liked them; they were distressed, with gold studs going up the sides and frayed edges.

“Cute!” Roza grinned. “We’re those, and what shoes did you bring? Any heels?”

“Isn’t this a pool party? Heels?”

She nodded. “You’ll see.”

He pulled out what he had and Roza singled out a pair of nude wedges. He prayed that they still fit.

“Camran, can you check on what the others are doing? I’m gonna get started with Yuri’s makeup.”

“Yeah sure.”

Yuri shimmied into his shorts; the leg holes of the swimsuit still came up _above_ the waistband of his pants.  Leaving a bit of skin bare at his hip bones; he was going to end up with the weirdest tan lines. He still tugged at the suit, as Camran leave after throwing on a long, black, lace cover-up.

“It’s okay if you don’t want people staring at you ass all afternoon.” Roza said, unpacking a giant cosmetic case. Yuri blinked. “I don’t want you to ever feel uncomfortable around us.”

“I’m not.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Camran can get over-excited sometimes. This is actually the first time I’ve ever seen him warm up to someone so quickly.”

“Oh.” So that was a good thing. Usually he scared people away.

She smiled. “Maybe he’s just excited that we have another omega in our group now. He gets tired of all our alpha shit.”

Yuri blinked. Of course she was an alpha, how hadn't he see it before? She was exactly like Lilia, radiating confidence. But wait. Another omega in their group? Was she talking about him?

“I…”

“Anyway, Almatian parties can get pretty wild, and Beka told us that you don’t go out much.”

The bastard. “I… go out.”

She smiled at him, a sort of motherly smile that made him bristle. “Just let any one of us know if you feel uncomfortable.”

 

Yuri hung close to Otabek as the group made their way through the hotel. Roza could have been a professional makeup artist, but he was still glad that most of his face was hidden behind his shades.

“Are you sure this is Okay?” he mumbled, glaring at the mountain of a bouncer.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Iska promised. “No one will tell you anything once you’re with us.”

He knew the legal drinking age was eighteen in Kazakhstan;  Lilia,Yakov, Katsudon, Georgi, _and_ Viktor had warned him. He swallowed, but once Otabek handed over his ID, the boucer nodded at the group and let them pass. He didn’t even ask for their tickets.

“You’re with one of the DJs,” Bal had said with a smile. “Plus _two_ Altins.”

Right. Super-rich. He took a deep breath, glancing around the pool floor. It was already packed and now he got why Roza and Camran said that he needed heels. He had spent enough time with Viktor and Chris that he could pick out the Versace swimsuits, Louis Vuitton shades, Cartier watches, and Tiffany necklaces and bracelets. There were waiters going around in pristine, white aprons and trays of sparkling and colourful drinks, strings of lights, potted palms, a bubble machine, and a fucking _glass_ stage where the entertainment was set up. Photographers were going around around the deck, snapping pictures of some of the most beautiful and glamorous people Yuri had ever seen. While the negative edge pool that looked out over the Alamaty skyline was almost breathtaking. Club music was already pulsing through the speakers but he could still hear the hum of people talking and laughing. This was honestly a world that Yuri have never thought he’d be part of. It was something he’d only see on television.

“Oh my God,” he muttered, nearly stumbling over his own feet.

“You okay?” Otabek asked, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, just,” he took a deep breath. “You live like this? I can’t believe you live like this.”

He chuckled softly, squeezing his shoulder. “Not all the time.”

“Fuck off.”

“You want a drink?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need it.”

Otabek’s set wasn’t until later that evening, so they found a couple of free chairs by the pool and drank until they were all chuckling freely.

“Move over,” Roza said, sliding onto the chair right next to Yuri. A few girls had asked her to take a picture with them, Yuri wasn’t too sure if she knew them before.

“Hey!” he squeaked as she pushed him right up against Otabek. “Get your own-”

Otabek tugged him onto his lap and Yuri couldn’t decide whether to fume or blush.

“You nearly split my drink, asshole,” he yelled, banging the side of his fist against Otabek’s thigh with his free hand.

Otabek grinned, catching his hand before it landed, and curled his fingers around it. “Could have gotten you another one. It’s free drinks, remember?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He took a long gulp, ignoring the burning aftertaste of the vodka. He held his glass with both hands, once Otabek let his go to wind an arm around his waist instead. He stared at his hand for a few seconds before his brain caught up. He pulled out his phone from Otabek’s pocket and held it up to take a few pictures of them, elbowing Otabek to look at the camera.

“So, this DJ kinda sucks,” Bal grumbled from the chair next to them.

Otabek shrugged. “He’s okay.”

“Yeah, it sounds like every other party I’ve been too, though.”

“I’m sure that’s what they wanted. EDM is fun and easy to dance to, especially if you’re drunk.”

“Not drunk enough,” he chuckled, nudging Camran. “You guys want anything?”

They yelled out their orders, but Yuri was still only halfway through his screwdriver; he chewed the straw, trying to drink faster.

“Nothing for me,” Otabek said. He squeezed Yuri’s side. “Yura, wanna dance?”

Yuri blinked a few times. “Uh, sure.”

He hopped off of Otabek’s lap, holding his breath as the floor swayed slightly. Okay, chugging alcohol was never a good idea, but -

Otabek grabbed his hand leading him to the tiled area between the stage and the pool where everyone was dancing. In his heels Yuri was roughly the same height as him and he bit back a grin as he stared right into his eyes.

“So how come you let me party with you _this_ time? In Barcelona you literally ran away from me.”

Otabek smiled crookedly, showing the top row of his teeth. He pulled Yuri close, resting his hands against his hips. “Okay, one, you were _fifteen_. And partying in Almaty is different; I know exactly who to fuck up if something happens to you.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Altin. I don’t need your protection.” He tugged Otabek’s hands from his waist so he could turn around. His cheeks were definitely steaming. He might have also been sunburnt, but that would only make it worse.

Otabek hummed, already bouncing to the beat, bringing Yuri along with him. It wasn’t so much as dancing as just bobbing along to the music. Lilia would have turned up her nose. But Yuri had been on his third drink, and the music was good, and Otabek was behind him, holding onto him and moving, and for once he didn’t care if he looked like a total fool. He danced.

At first he just copied what everyone else was doing around him, rolling their hips, pumping their arms into the air, bobbing their heads, but it was actually more fun than that. Within minutes he was nearly lost. Otabek’s hands were hot and heavy on his waist, and every so often Yuri’s back would bump against his chest or stomach, or something a bit lower. The sun was getting ready to set, but it was still so hot, that he was sweating under his swimsuit. But he didn’t think that he had ever had so much fun in his life before. He glanced over his shoulder; Otabek’s eyes were closed, but his head was bobbing in time with the base. Yuri giggled, trailing his hands down his body as he rolled his hips back against Otabek’s, and grabbed both of his hands, smoothing his fingers over the backs.

“You okay?” Otabek asked, nearly shouting into his ear.

“Yeah,” he yelled back, arching his spine enough to rest the back of his head against Otabek’s shoulder. “This party is amazing, Beka!”

He grinned, eyebrows rising slightly as Yuri flashed a smile, and one of his arms came up to cross across Yuri’s chest. Yuri held onto his wrist, looking up into dark eyes that, when the sun caught them at just the right angle, turned gold and amber.

“You thirsty?” he asked.

He was, he was parched, the dryness was making his throat burn along with the aftertaste of vodka. But that would mean they would have to stop dancing. He shook his head.

Otabek hesitated, his arm twitching against Yuri’s chest before he bit his lip. “I’m kinda thirsty.”

Oh. Yuri straightened, trying his hardest not to look disappointed. He didn’t know if it worked. Otabek still wrapped an arm around his shoulders, as he guided him to the bar, tapping his fingers against Yuri’s skin in time with the music.

“You want anything? Other than water, I mean.”

“Umm,” Yuri tilted his head to the side, glaring up at the hotel drink menu that was plastered on the wall behind the bar. “I can’t read Kazakh.”

“There’s Russian underneath, Yura.”

“Shut up.”

Otabek chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand. Yuri bit his lip, laughing a bit at himself. “I’m so happy you came here this summer.”

“Why, so you could laugh at me?” he rolled his eyes, but his smile ruined it.

“Yes.”

They hung back by the bar for a while, Otabek had ordered Yuri a white Russian, poking further fun at him, but had switched to beer for himself. He didn’t like performing too drunk, and Yuri could understand _that_. But they also stayed at the bar long enough for a group of girls and their boyfriends to come up to Otabek to ask for a few pictures and to sign a napkin. Yuri stood to the side watching as one of the girls hung off of Otabek’s arm. His bicep was nearly as big as both of her arms together, so of course she had to touch, like he was public property. Yuri finished off his drink in one sip then crunched on the ice, glaring at the group as they finished up.

“Yeah, Mr. celebrity,” he grumbled as the group left, thanking Otabek and fawning over their pictures of him. “Didn’t know you were so well known.” They hadn’t even batted an eye at him, and he had at least twice the amount of medals Otabek had; they obviously didn’t know a thing about figure skating.

Otabek leaned close to him, once again, resting his arm around against the edge of the bar behind him. He shrugged, picking his beer back up from the counter. “The Olympics just finished.”

“Yeah, like four months ago.”

“I got silver-”

“I know.” His stomach tightened uncomfortably, and he knew he was being a brat. He sighed. He shouldn't be jealous of his friend. Especially not when he’d invited him into his home and brought him to a party. “Beka-”

“I have to go get ready for my set,” Otabek grumbled, checking his watch. “Can you stay with Iska and the others?”

“Yeah.” He knew Otabek noticed the way his shoulders slumped.

He squeezed Yuri’s shoulder. “Let’s go find them first.”

 

There was always a twinge of excitement in Yuri’s gut whenever he saw Otabek get into the DJ booth. He was so fucking cool, even if he was wearing his baseball cap backwards like a complete tool. Bal had pushed another drink into his hands then Camran had dragged him onto the dancefloor. Bal had followed, head already bobbing, but Iska grumbled, looking impossibly grumpy as Roza waved at them, before ducking into the crowd near the pool. Yuri laughed at him.

“You don’t like dancing?” he asked, grinning.

Iska raised an eyebrow, glancing to the stage where a few crew members were helping Otabek set up. “It’s alright. I rather watch.”

“Perv,” Camran snipped as he grabbed Bal, pushing him to start swaying to the preset playlist.

Iska rolled his eyes before turning back to Yuri. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just rather observe what’s happening.”

“I get it.” He shrugged one shoulder. “You didn’t have to follow then.”

“Then who’d dance with you?”

Yuri looked around, feeling a bright red blush spread along his cheeks. He didn’t know what to even say to that, but was saved the trouble when Otabek’s voice sounded over the speakers and everyone on the dancefloor began to cheer. Yuri cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed, seeing Bal and Camran do the same.

Otabek liked rock music best, but Yuri knew that he’d been trying to branch out into more popular dance music even though it was so boring. He was glad that he started with a rock mix, though. He grabbed Iska’s hands, setting them on his hips like how Otabek had done earlier, but he didn’t need to be told. Iska was taller than Otabek, not by much, but enough that he and Yuri didn’t match up as well. Or so he thought, Bal and Camran seemed to be doing fine, and Bal had like nine centimeters on Camran. He leaned back, pressing his shoulders to Iska’s chest as he rolled his hips.

“Can we go closer?” He yelled, turning to head to see Iska’s face.

He nodded, already guiding Yuri to the the front of the dance floor. This close to the speakers he could feel them vibrating the floor, making his legs feel like jelly as the vibrations went right up to his eyeballs. If Iska hands weren’t clamped around his waist he probably would have fallen down. Oh, and he was probably drunk too. The back of his head had been buzzing long before the music had reached him.

“Do you think he’ll see us?” he asked Iska, already waving his arms over his head.

Iska probably couldn’t hear him, so he continued dancing, just letting himself get lost. His head was definitely fuzzy, and his tongue felt like a slug, but his heart was pumping actual lava. With his eyes fluttering shut, he let himself move. Iska disappeared from behind him and he couldn’t feel the floor under his feet, or the sweaty bodies surrounding him. Until,

“Alright guys,” Otabek’s voice echoed in his head. “This next song is for a very special friend of mine.” Yuri’s eyes flew open and the floor tilted dangerously to one side. Iska’s hands were thankfully like clamps around his waist. “He came all the way from Saint Petersburg and it’s his first time in Almaty, so let’s all give him a big welcome!” The crowd’s cheers were suddenly three times louder, and Yuri’s ears started to steam. “Yuri, this is for you!”

His jaw dropped and for a second he lost the beat, swaying as if time had slowed down around him. Otabek was looking directly at him, one corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile, and he winked, just as the song changed. Yuri’s breath caught in his dry throat, yet he could still feel every bit of oxygen leaving him. He didn’t recognise the song, but he would die before he let Otabek know that. Still, his jaw dropped and for a few beats he couldn't even move, especially not when Otabek was staring at him again, his gaze dark and intense, even as he smiled openly. he mouthed something at him, and Yuri had to blink, unsure if he was too drunk to understand reality any more. It had looked like 'you're beautiful, I love you' but that couldn't possibly be right. Otabek had gone back to looking at his controls, and Yuri suddenly felt too weak too stand. He could feel his heartbeat in his tongue, and only remembered to move when Iska patted his side. 

He blinked suddenly remembering the rest of the party and glanced over his shoulder, pressing his fingers to Iska's wrists. “Beka’s like a different person when he’s up there,” he yelled, shaking his head. 

“What?”

“Beka!”

“Yeah?”

“He’s like a different person!”

Iska’s eyes flickered to the stage then back to Yuri. His smirk was just like Otabek’s too. “Yeah, I had to coach him!”

Yuri nearly doubled over laughing.

 

Yuri’s head was spinning and he could still hear the music, even as Roza helped him through the hotel lobby. His feet were on fire from wearing heels all night, even after he had taken them off. But at least no one was carrying him. Camran was pouting from his position, slung over Bal’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. But he hadn’t been able to walk too well when they left the pool floor, so Yuri wasn’t all too sympathetic.

“Uh, Yuri, you might need to spend the night at my place,” Iska said, his voice echoed along the marble floors and high, vaulted ceilings of the hotel lobby.

“Why? Where’s Beka?” He had been with them until like an hour ago. Yuri didn’t even remember what he said before he left.

Iska and Bal gave each other a weird look. Roza’s shoulders shook in a silent laugh.

“Beka probably already left with the hottest girl-”

“Or omega-”

“What?” his voice came out like screeching tyres. He coughed and cleared his throat.

“Who wouldn’t want to bang the DJ?” Roza said, chuckling. “And Beka’s pretty famous. He usually does this-”

“ _What_?” That one had been a little softer but no less high pitched. His throat hurt.

Bal’s smile was impossibly wide as he set Camran down on one of the couches across from the reception. “He didn’t tell you? Almost every time we go out, he ends up going home with someone else. He’s the group slut.”

“ _What_ !”Yuri’s jaw dropped, and he stood gapping like a fucking fish. Well, _that_ was a side of Otabek that he had never heard of before.

“You know, I’m the funny one. Roza’s the mom, Camran’s the cute one, and Beka’s the slut.”

“I am not.” Otabek sauntered in from outside, the automatic sliding doors rolling loudly along their tracks. His hands were shoved into his pockets and had that many buttons on his shirt always been undone? His eyes narrowed dangerously at Bal as he came up to them. “Stop telling him lies.”

“Not lying.” Bal grinned, patting Otabek on the top of his head. Otabek slapped his hand away and Yuri glanced between them, his breath coming out in slow pants. “Iska, back me up here.”

“Yeah, I’m staying out of this one,” Iska held his hands up.

“What were you doing outside?” Yuri asked, shaking his head. But that made the floor shake too. Roza’s arm tightened around his waist.

Bal opened his mouth, but Otabek shoved him hard and he nearly went crashing to the floor. “ _Not_ banging anyone. I know what you were going to say.” He turned to Yuri. “I was putting my stuff in the car. The driver’s here by the way.”

“Driver?” Yuri echoed, glancing to Bal as he covered his mouth, snickering.

“Yeah, knew we were all gonna drink, so I asked my dad’s driver to work tonight.”

He had a fucking driver, of course. Iska took the front seat, but the driver had pulled up in a fucking black Escalade, so it didn't matter where he went. Yuri had to jump to get in, pointedly ignoring Otabek’s offered hand.

“Whose car is this?” Yuri mumbled, watching as Bal lifted Camran in and got into the back seat. He seemed to already be falling asleep, his head bumping against Bal’s chest.

“My dad’s.”

“But he has the sports car.”

“This one’s to drive all the grandkids around.”

Yuri got onto his knees turning around to look at Camran and Bal in the back. “Is he okay?”

Bal winked at him. “Yeah. I mean he drank a bit too much, but don’t worry; I’ll take care of him.”

Satisfied, he sat back down, pressing closer to Otabek when he realised that the AC vent was pointed directly at him. He pulled out his phone from Otabek’s pocket again and tapped open his photos. He couldn’t post anything now, both Instagram and Snapchat would kill his data, but he might as well go through what he had. He Roza and Camran had taken a million pictures before they had even left home. He’d already updated his story on the Altin’s WiFi, but he hadn’t put anything on Istagram.

“What do you think?” he asked, tilting his phone to Roza.

She grinned. “Cute, oh no wait, awkward hand - can I?”

Yuri shrugged, handing her his phone. “This one,” she said after swiping through a few more. It was one of the one’s they’d gotten Iska to take, a full body shot of the three of them, Camran’s hands were tight around Yuri’s waist, and Roza was leaning on the both of them. “Tag me when you post it. Serikbai underscore Ro, actually I’ll just follow you now.”

“Me too,” Bal called and Iska waved his phone from the front seat.

Yuri grinned, he’d probably have to tag all of them anyway. He scrolled through a few more pictures, stopping and elbowing Otabek in the side. The selfie he had taken of the two of them when he was sitting on his lap was definitely going up. He was smirking at the camera, pulling his shades down slightly and the sunlight made his highlighted cheekbones glisten. Plus Otabek looked good too, he always did, despite the shades ontop his head. Even though he wasn't looking at the camera, his gaze fixed on Yuri instead, there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

Otabek smiled. “I’ll allow it.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t asking your permission.You’re lucky I even showed it to you.”

Bal snickered loudly. “Finally, someone who can stomp on Beka’s giant ego. Welcome to the group Yuri, please don’t ever leave us.”

Yuri giggled, sliding down against the seat.

“Did you have a good time?” Otabek asked after they had dropped off Roza, the last stop on the way back to the Altin mansion.

“It was amazing.” Yuri grinned, tearing his eyes from the street lamps flashing past to look at Otabek. “Are all parties here like this?”

“Not all.”

“I’ve never really been to any in Saint Petersburg. I don’t know anyone, and Mila would never bring me.” It sounded so dumb to admit; he didn’t know why he did.

Otabek hummed as he wrapped his arm around Yuri’s shoulders. “Never too late to start.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, but leaned against Otabek’s side. “God, that’s such an old man thing to say.”

Otabek helped him out of the car when they finally arrived home, and mumbled a few words in Kazakh to the driver, but Yuri was hardly feeling drunk anymore. His balance was back, and his fingers weren’t tingling as much. His head still felt a little cloudy, though, and he was parched. Yet, he didn’t want to move as Otabek hung back at the foot of the stairs, almost as if he didn’t want to part ways and end the night officially. Yuri definitely didn’t want the night to end.

“What time is it?” he asked, his brain screeching to a stop.

“Close to three.” Otabek sighed, scratching the back of his neck.  “We should get to bed.”

“Oh.” A cold, sinking feeling ebbed it’s way to the pit of his stomach.

Otabek bit his lip tilting his head slightly, somehow reading him like a book. “Aren’t you tired?” Yuri shook his head and Otabek exhaled in amusement. A sort of laugh, but not quite. “Come up, then. I guess we can do… something.” He jerked his head as he began climbing the stairs. Yuri hopped after him, not fighting the wide grin on his face.

“You’re insane, Yuri Plisetsky, if you think you’re going on my _bed_ like _that_.” He grabbed Yuri around the waist, hauling him back from bouncing onto the bed.

“Oh my God!” Yuri wailed, squirming away from his hold. “Seriously? I can’t go on your _bed_?”

“No.”

“It’s not like you sleep on top of the covers.” He planted his feet, spinning around to face him and they stood so close their chests almost touched.

Otabek wrinkled his nose. “You smell of sweat and alcohol.”

“So do you!” He stabbed a finger into the middle of Otabek’s chest.

“I didn’t say I didn’t.” He smirked, grabbing Yuri’s hand, then reaching for the other before pinning them at his sides.

Yuri rolled his eyes, bumping one of Otabek’s hands with his hip. Otabek’s gaze dropped and Yuri swore he felt heat against his stomach.

“You looked really good today,” Otabek murmured.

Yuri’s cheeks heated and he looked down his body. Otabek had literally done a double take when he, Roza, and Camran had joined him, Bal, and Iska in his room. But then so did Iska and Bal, so Yuri had just assumed they were looking at the other two. “It’s Camran’s swimsuit.”

“It looks good on you. Gold is your colour.” He let go of Yuri’s wrists, but his hands still hovered over his hips.

Yuri scoffed. “I know.”

His throat bobbed, and when Yuri met his gaze again he was nearly knocked over by the intensity. He didn’t know why he was holding his breath, or why he suddenly felt so hot, or why he could feel Otabek when he wasn’t even touching him.

 

Camran worked at a wilderness tour company, and Yuri honestly wouldn’t have pegged him to be the outdoors sort of person, but he showed up in a t-shirt with the company logo and muddy hiking boots. Yuri himself was dressed in leggings and a racerback tank top with his hair braided back from his face, Otabek had told him to expect to get dirty, so he assumed that they were going to hike or something. He didn’t expect to be suddenly face to face with a horse.

“Have you ever ridden a horse before?” Camran asked glancing between Yuri the giant, black horse that was staring at him from the opposite side of a rough, wooden fence. Yuri couldn’t tear his eyes away from the creature. Didn’t he have to maintain eye-contact or something, or it would attack? Jumping over a fence that high would be no problem for it, right?

“No…” He’d never even stood next to a horse before. Sure, he’d seen them pull carriages for like tourists or weddings back in Saint Petersburg, but that was usually from the safety of a building. This black one was huge, its head alone was big enough to weigh like twenty kilograms.

Camran hummed softly, reaching out to pat the horse’s neck. Yuri jumped as its _skin_ shivered. What the hell?

“He can ride with me.”

Okay, screw getting attacked. Yuri’s head whipped around at the sound of Otabek’s voice.

He shrugged. “You’ve ridden with me on my bike before. This is just like that.”

“Except it’s a _horse_.”

He scoffed.

“Can’t we do the ATV’s?” He had seen a large group race off into the forest, screaming over the roar of the engines.

Camran wrinkled his nose. “Sorry, they were all booked for today-”

“And you’re seventeen; you don’t even have a driver’s license.You’d have to ride with someone else anyway.”

Yuri stuck out his tongue at him, and he made him ride in front as revenge. Yuri could deal with heights, but there was something jarring about sitting down on something so far from the ground, especially something that moved. He held onto the nub at the front of the saddle watching as Camran handed Otabek the reigns. His arms were hot around him and kept on bumping against his hips and the tops of his thighs, while his chest was like a heated wall behind him. Usually it was the other way around, with Yuri pressing himself against his back. This way felt almost... comforting, he didn’t know how to describe it. It was like Otabek was hugging him, but not quite. Yeah, and they were on a horse. A moving horse. The horse’s name was Umit, and he was a pretty sand colour with dark points, or whatever they were called on a horse; he looked like Potya. Yuri lurched forward as he stepped forward then back, doing the skin shaking thing and his swishing tail sounded almost like a whip. Sorry, he was definitely a cat person. It wasn’t that he didn’t like him or was afraid, just that being _on top_ of him was weird. Otabek set a hand on his hip, steadying him. They had to wait a bit for Camran to help the others with their horses then got onto his own, a spotted grey, and Yuri rolled his eyes as he circled the group in a quick trot, show-off. And he totally did  not just whimper as Umit stomped one of his feet and shifted his weight again.

“Don’t be scared,” Otabek said from behind him, not even bothering to hide his chuckle.

“I’m not scared,” he answered out of principle. He really wasn’t. The horse was just really high up.

“I won’t let you fall.” He was still laughing.

Yuri grumbled. “I think I’ll want to fall if you keep that up.”

They were going on a three hour ride to Big Almaty Lake. And Yuri had taken one look at the treacherous mountains surrounding them and wondered if going by horseback was the best option. He knew there was a _road_ that lead to the lake, couldn’t they have just driven there instead? He also did not squeal with the horse started walking, and ignored Roza as she pointed her phone camera at him. She had taken the giant black horse, and looked like a fucking warrior-princess, riding into battle.

“So are you giving us the VIP tour package?” Bal asked, guiding his horse, closer to Camran as he led them down a well-used dirt track.

Camran winced. “Nope.”

Bal’s laughter was clear and loud. “Come on, don’t you have the whole spiel memorised?”

“Yeah, but,” he glanced over his shoulder at the rest of them. “It’s better if I don’t speak through all of it.”

Almaty was beautiful. Yuri had to gasp as the horse crested one of the hills and he was suddenly staring over the teal water of the Big Almaty Lake. The sun was high up in the sky, making the rippling water sparkle, and everything was just so bright and clear. Snow-capped mountains still loomed around them, and forests of deep green pine trees covered the sides, even the air smelled so clean and new. Umit clopped along the dirt path, until Camran pulled his horse to a halt. Yuri pulled out his phone, taking a few pictures of the lake from between Umit’s ears, then flipped the camera to take a few selfies. His cheeks and nose were already pink, even though he’d put on sunblock and had plopped a baseball cap on his head. He raised his arms to get Otabek in the shot, but then paused, locking his phone and slipping it back into his pocket. He took a deep breath through his nose, feeling the cool air sweep through his lungs, invigorating, cleansing even. He took off his baseball cap, turning his face skywards, letting the sun rays tickle his cheeks while a cool breeze ruffled the hairs that had escaped from his braid. Letting his eyes fall shut, he breathed in deeply. Yesterday, the party had been insanely fun, just letting loose, dancing and drinking, and seeing a completely new side of Otabek. But this, this was Otabek’s world, his country. And he’d invited Yuri to come see it. Suddenly his chest felt like it wasn’t big enough for his lungs or heart.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Otabek, leaning back to bump against his chest.

Otabek’s entire expression was tender, and Yuri raised an eyebrow. He knew he was a special kind of patriotic sap, but he was literally just looking at a lake.

“Yeah,” his mouth stretched into a smile, the familiar wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. He adjusted his grip on the reigns, arms brushing against the tops of Yuri’s thighs.“It is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Roza's Swimsuit ](https://www.zaful.com/high-waisted-scalloped-one-shoulder-bikini-p_268688.html)
> 
> I'll let you guys decide how good Yuri is at reading lips :)  
>   
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>   
> This fic will be updated **every other week** so the next update will be on **April 21st** \- if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my [Tumblr](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/) :)


	7. Chapter 7

When Otabek had said he was taking him to a bar, yuri had expected a bar, not this.The first thing that came to mind was a sports bar, he didn’t know why, but this looked like some kind of elitist country club. The staff had a fucking uniform. 

“What is this?” Yuri asked, sticking himself to Otabek’s side. 

“They make the best drinks here, plus it’s a little quieter than a club.” 

Yuri looked around, and yeah, it kind of looked more like a classy restaurant than a bar, and the music was down to a level that he didn’t have to shout over. But everything looked so damn expensive, from the french doors, that were thrown open to a terrace with a pool, to the white tablecloths, and matching gauzy drapes. There weren’t that many people around, but the few that were there were rich and beautiful, like they were from a fucking television series. Otabek had told him to dress nicely, and by now he knew that meant heels and makeup. But they were literally just going out for drinks, so he didn’t try that hard, and he suddenly wished he had. His jeans were nice, but a bit faded at the knees, and he had just thrown on a dark dress shirt, rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, and slipped into a pair of mary-jane stilettos that were almost too tight. He’d picked out the best of his jewellery, but hadn’t even done anything with his hair. He looked around the room, feeling so plain and underdressed, but Otabek led him right up to the bar and pulled out a stool for him like it didn't matter.

“You know, when I ask what to wear, it would help if you give me a dress code.” He muttered, glanced at a woman, no a male omega, in a shimmery maxi dress, and a gold choker.

Otabek raised an eyebrow, leaning against the bar top. “Why? You look good. I like that lipstick on you.” Yuri rolled his eyes. It was a dark red-purple shade called _vampire’s kiss_ , but he wasn’t sure if he liked it. Otabek bumped him with his shoulder. “You look good, don’t worry.”

“Whatever.” He glanced to the bartender - dressed in waistcoat and long white apron - who was busy mixing something in a metal shaker. “What are you getting me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I hate you.”

Otabek grinned. 

Yuri’s drink came in a long stemmed glass, with an orange rind garnish and lots of bubbles. Yuri took a tentative sip, watching as Otabek watched him.

“What is this?”

“Do you like it?” 

“Yeah…” He took another sip to make sure. Otabek was drinking something dark over ice, Yuri could smell it from his seat. “It’s champagne, right?”

“Yeah, it’s a forbidden apple.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t taste like apples, though.”

Otabek chuckled, finally pulling up a stool to sit down.

“So, is this what you do when you’re not practicing? Go to parties and bars, and buying expensive shit?”

“Not, all the  time. I like staying home too.” Well he was either at the rink, gym, or in his room whenever Yuri called. “But I hope you’re having fun.”

“Yeah, it’s still kind of weird, though. I don’t think I’ll even get used to how fucking rich you are.”

Otabek sighed, looking away. “Yeah, well-”

“But I’m so going to rub this in Viktor’s face. Oh, which reminds me, can we take pictures in your dad’s car when we get home?”

Otabek smirked. “We can  _ drive  _ me dad’s car when we get home.”

Yuri grinned, taking another sip of his drink. “I’d ask if we could use your bike instead, but I know Viktor would go crazy over the car.”

“Fair enough. I mean, James Bond drives an Aston Martin.”

“Okay.”

Otabek sighed. “You really don’t know anything about cars?” He shook his head. “You at least know how to change a tyre right?” Yuri drank more instead of answering. “Yura, you’re killing me here. I’m teaching you how tomorrow.”

“Ew, no.”

“For safety.”

“I don’t even drive.”

“Well, it’ll be for when you learn how.”

He rolled his eyes at Otabek’s grin. 

Otabek switched to beer after he finished his drink and Yuri wanted to roll his eyes at him, but he also didn’t want him to drive them home drunk. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have more than one glass of champagne. He took a picture of the bubbling glass to upload to his Snap story later. He also poked Otabek to look at the camera for a selfie. His Instagram page now had an almost embarrassing amount of pictures of him and Otabek; his fan club was noticing, but he had threatened to block the next person who asked if he and Otabek were dating and the comments stopped after that. Besides, Almaty was like one big photo op. 

“So, you really like those, huh?” Otabek asked, eyeing as Yuri nearly knocked back the rest of his drink.

“Oh, yeah, I guess.” He hadn’t even noticed that it was almost done. He barely felt that buzzed, well, his fingertips did feel all tingly and numb. How could they feel both tingly and numb?

Otabek chuckled softly, covering his mouth, but then his phone started to vibrate, buzzing across the varnished wood of the bar top. He let go a giant sigh when he looked at the caller ID. 

“Sorry, it’s my mom,” he apologised gruffly, before picking up. “ _ Anam _ .” Yuri bit his lip to keep from smiling at the instantly whiney tone Otabek switched to. He rattled off in rapid Kazakh, grimacing at Yuri before getting up and crossing over to one of the doors to the terrace.  

God, he was such a mama’s boy. Yuri scoffing, picking up his phone again and tapping open his photos. He might as well pick out the good ones now. Mila was going to be so jealous. She called him to scream when she’d seen the pictures from the party, his ear had rang for a good ten minutes after she had hung up. He smirked, flipping between two almost identical pictures of his drink; the angle was slightly different, but he didn’t know which one looked better.

“Hey, pretty lady,”

Yuri’s head snapped up as a guy in a patterned, Armani button-up  with slicked back hair and a giant watch sat down in Otabek’s seat. 

“Uh, try again.” He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, raising an eyebrow. Um, okay? Otabek hadn’t even been gone for two minutes yet. 

He jumped slightly, unashamed as he looked Yuri up and down. “Oh sorry. I haven’t seen you around before.”

Yuri frowned, glancing over the guy’s shoulder to where Otabek was still talking on his phone. “I’m not from here.”

“You’re Russian, right? I can tell, the way you speak.”

“Uh, yeah.” He curled his fingers around the stem of his mostly empty glass.

The guy grinned. His teeth were too straight and white to be real. Yuri didn’t like his smile, or the way he was looking at him for that matter. There was something wrong in his eyes. “So are you here on vacation or what?”

“I’m visiting a friend.”

“Oh nice, where are they?” He glanced around the bar, and for some reason him finding Otabek was the last thing Yuri wanted. 

“Around somewhere.” He waved his hand dismissively. 

“Around?”

“As in it’s none of your business.”

“So, you’re here alone?”

“What’s it to you?”

The guy grinned again and Yuri suddenly figured out what he didn’t like his face. He was testing him, sizing him up, and trying to get  _ something _ out of him. He waved at the bartender, who glanced quickly between him and Yuri but didn’t say anything. 

“Another one of those for this pretty one.” Yuri rolled his eyes, eyes flickering to Otabek’s back, before he tore them away in case the guy saw him looking. “I’m Dauren. What’s your name?”

“Yuri.”

“Beautiful.”

He raised an eyebrow; it was common as fuck, the most generic Russian name he could think of. Yeah, this guy was full of shit. 

“So, how’s Almaty been treating you?”

He nodded at the bartender when gave him his new drink and took the empty glass away. “It’s been good. Uh, really glamorous.”

Dauren chuckled loudly. “Oh, you like that sort of thing? All the glamour and parties?”

“It’s fun,” he said, shrugging.

“Well, then I think you and I can have a good time.”

“Uh,” he wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think so.”

“You’ve ever ridden in a Lamborghini before?” Yuri narrowed his eyes. “I can take you for a spin.”

“Really? You’d take someone you don’t even know for a ride in you  _ Lamborghini _ ?” He had to throw in air quotes.

Dauren winked at him. “Just the really pretty ones.”

Oh God. He rolled his eyes, finally taking a sip from his new drink. 

Dauren stroked his chin. “Not enough? Hmmm, okay then afterwards we can head back to my place, you can soak in my hot tub and I’ll show you just how much  _ fun  _ Almaty can be.”

Oh, well,  _ fuck _ . That’s where he was going with this. His spine started to itch and he glanced back to Otabek, nearly sighing in relief when he saw he was making his way back over. 

“Uh,” his voice came out like a squeak. “That sounds nice and all, but my friend is-”

“Yura, sorry that took so long,” Otabek came up beside him, resting a hand to his shoulder and stared at Dauren with slight hostility. “Who’s this?” Yuri glanced over his shoulder at him, and frowned, why was he standing like that, with his chest puffed out and his arms tensed? Whatever, he turned back around and had to hide his grin at how Dauren suddenly looked uneasy. 

“This is Dauren; he was telling me about his Lamborghini.”

Otabek scoffed softly. “You have one?”

“Yeah, a Huracán.”

Otabek nodded, squeezing Yuri’s shoulder as he stepped close enough for him to feel his chest against his upper arm. “That’s a nice one. V10 engine right?”

Dauren nodded, glancing to Otabek’s hand on Yuri’s shoulder. 

“I’ve been thinking about getting one myself. You should tell me about it.”

Dauren swallowed, his throat bobbing. “Yeah, sure. Uh, do you have a business card or anything?”

Otabek’s chest expanded in an amused huff against Yuri’s arm. “No, but you’ll probably remember my name.” He held out his hand to shake. “Otabek Altin.” 

 

“You’ll probably remember my name? What the fuck, Beka?” Yuri cackled swinging himself into the passenger seat of the Range Rover. 

“Hey, you have to admit it was cool.”

“He nearly shit his pants. Are you Altins really  _ that _ big of a deal?”

“Kind of. I mean the family is well known.”

Yuri shook his head.

“But seriously, Yura, I leave you alone for five minutes and come back to someone hitting on you?” 

Yuri shrugged. “I’m hot.” 

Otabek scoffed, reaching over the centre partition to swat his shoulder. Yuri giggled, scooting away. 

“Seat belt.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Okay  _ dad _ .” 

True to his word Otabek had taken him for a ride in his dad’s Aston Martin when they’d gotten back home. Yuri had taken enough pictures to rub in Viktor’s face for the next month. But he still wasn’t tired, exhilarated, yes, a bit buzzed from all the champagne, but not tired. So, they ended up out by the pool lying on their backs letting their feet dangle in the tepid water. The house around them was dark with the exception of a sole, dim, orange light in the kitchen. 

“Beka?” Yuri asked after they’d been silent for long enough. His mind was still reeling from earlier that night. And it hadn’t bothered him at the time, but now that everything was quiet and he had a chance to think, it came back full force. Honestly, if he wasn’t ace, if he wasn’t interested in sex at all, would he have gone home with that guy? It seemed that no one else had a problem with just sleeping with random people, Otabek didn’t. 

“Yeah?”

Yuri rolled onto his side to face him; his face was outlined in faint orange. Yuri swallowed, pillowing the side of his head against his shoulder. “What Bal said about you at the party-”

Otabek sighed through his nose. “I’m not… it’s not like he said. He exaggerates.”

“But you have gone home with people from parties and stuff?”

“Yeah. It’s nothing serious, Yura. honestly they’re just a bunch of one-night stands; they don’t mean anything.” 

Yuri bit his lip as his stomach began to bubble. “So, like if you had been me tonight, would you have gone home with that guy?”

“What? No!” He sounded disgusted. “No, that guy was a creep. You were obviously there with someone else. I don’t even know what kind of asshole just  _ inserts  _ himself like that.”

“It wasn’t like we were on a date or anything.”

“Well… yeah, I guess.” He let out a woosh of air. “But still. Did… did you want to go home with him?”

Yuri shook his head vigorously before realising that Otabek couldn’t see him. “No, that’s not… well.” How did he say this? Should he start from the beginning? Sighing softly, he rolled back onto his back, looking up at the sky, there was a haze in the distance from all the city lights, which sucked because stars would have been nice tonight. Okay, from the beginning. “Have you ever sent a dick pic to someone?” 

“Uh,” he hesitated, obviously taken off guard. “Yeah, why?”

“Fuck, really?”

“Well yeah, like, if we’ve been taking for a while and they ask for one.”

“People actually ask for that shit?”

“Yeah… I would never send one unsolicited - wait did you-”

“Yeah. Some guy sent it to me on Instagram after I posted what he thought was a sexy picture.”

Otabek groaned. “Guys like that are disgusting. Did you report him?” 

“I don’t remember, but like, the point, uh. I don’t know I didn’t… well it made me feel sick and I talked to Katsudon about it, well about everything-”

“You  _ talked  _ to  _ Yuuri _ ?”

“Yeah, I know. He’s actually not as bad as I thought. He’s kinda smart.” Otabek scoffed through his nose. “Stop interrupting me, asshole. Anyway I talked to him, about that truth or dare game, and how everyone was laughing at me cause I’m still a virgin, and like I never really thought about sex before and well, I think... I think I’m asexual.”

A beat of silence passed. “Huh?”

Yuri’s stomach f roze over. “Asexual, like-”

“I know what it is, just… are you sure?”

He swallowed, thinking back to all those talks he had with Katsudon. They had made sense; they didn’t make him feel like he was a child or naive or inexperienced. “Yeah. I mean,” he took a deep breath. “I’m seventeen, Beka, and I can honestly say I’ve never wanted to, like really wanted, to have sex. Like, at first I thought I was just too busy with skating to even think about it, but then you guys were still going around and sleeping with people-”

“I don’t-”

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that. But I don’t know after that truth or dare game I found out just how much I wasn’t doing and like it never bothered me until they made fun of me. And I guess Katsudon knows about this stuff-”

“He’s ace?”

“No, of course not. Ugh, do you know how many times I’ve almost walked in on him and Viktor fucking?” He shuddered as Otabek chuckled. “But he knows someone who is. And well, I think I’m ace too.”

“Okay.”

Yuri frowned, rolling back onto his side. “Okay?” 

“Yeah. I mean if that’s what you think, then okay.”

“You don’t think I’m like broken or a freak?”

He swallowed. “No. I know people are different. I also thought it was okay that you’re still a virgin; people develop differently and stuff. But I guess…” he sighed. “So like, you haven't’ thought about sex  _ at all _ ?” 

Yuri felt his cheeks heat. “Well yeah, but I don’t know. I don’t know like… I never really thought it was that important to like go out and find someone-”

“That’s not how it usually works, though. You don’t just look for someone, I mean like ideally, you’d want to be in a relationship first and then you know, it’ll come naturally.”

Yuri glared at him. “You said you don’t even remember the person’s name-”

“Okay, I’m not the ideal. But, you’re not broken, Yura. You never were.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, looking back up at the sky. “I know.” 

Otabek sighed again. “So, like what do you feel when you think about sex?”

And there was the legendary bluntness. His face was steaming now. “I don’t know. Nothing really.”

“ _ Nothing _ ?”

“Remember when I said I felt like I was missing something? I honestly don’t get why everyone is so obsessed with having sex. God, even my fans keep on like ‘shipping’ us.” Otabek coughed.  “I don’t, well  _ that’s  _ what I don’t get. People describe it as a  _ need _ , and I don’t feel like I need it.”

“So you feel nothing at all, like your stomach doesn’t tighten or, you get short of breath, or like hard?”

He paused to think. Of all the times he’d thought about sex, well usually when he was watching a movie and the two leads had to had to get each other naked. He mostly felt annoyed, because it was so unnecessary and often forced. And then when the guy had sent him that dick pic he didn’t feel turned on, just uncomfortable, disgusted, and a little scared. Even that time with the Canadian girl, he’d honestly just felt overwhelmed and scared. He hadn’t been excited at all, he hadn’t even gotten the slightest bit hard. “... No. Do  _ you _ ?”

“Well, yeah. That’s normal.”

He grit his teeth. “Well, I guess I’m not normal.”

“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, I’m just trying to understand.” Yuri heard him roll over, and nearly jumped when his fingers curled around his wrist. He swallowed, before taking. “You’re my  _ best _ friend. I want to know what goes on behind those huge, green eyes of yours.” 

“Do you have to fucking put it like that?” he grumbled, but his chest felt all light and airy, like his lungs were leaking into the rest of his body. 

“Like what?”

“Behind my eyes? Do you even fucking live in this century?”

“ _ What _ ?”

Yuri sighed, shaking his head wishing that his cheeks would cool down. “But like, thanks. That means a lot.” 

Otabek’s hand tightened around his wrist. “So, turns out you weren’t a late bloomer; you were just ace.”

“Shut up. Ugh.” Well he still was a late bloomer; he’d presented a full fucking year later than the worldwide average. 

“I’m happy for you. I know you were freaking out about being a virgin. If being ace is your happy spot, then I’m happy too.”

“I wasn’t freaking out!” He punched his shoulder.

“You were totally freaking out.”

“I hate you.” 

“I don’t know if you can see, but I’m smiling so hard right now.”

“I can’t see.” Yuri grumbled. “I can’t see shit.”

Otabek chuckled softly, and they fell into silence again, but this time Yuri didn’t turn away to look at the sky. Otabek did, he couldn’t see his face, but he could tell when he moved. 

“Uh, so are you tired?” Otabek asked after minutes, hours.

“Not really.”

Otabek sighed softly. “Honestly, I’m exhausted.” He picked up his phone pressing the lock button and nearly blinding them both. “It’s almost  _ three, _ ” he mumbled. Yuri blinked, when had that happened? “We need to stop going to bed so late.”

Yuri scoffed. “It’s summer.”

“Yeah, but I’m not young like you anymore.”

“Shut the fuck up, Altin.”

He sat up, stretching his arms over his head. “Yeah, I’m going to head to bed now.”

Yuri felt a tinge of disappointment in his stomach, but if Otabek was tired, he needed to let him go to sleep. He sat up as well, biting his lip. “Okay.”

 

Yuri wondered out of his room some time after noon the next day. Okay, so he had been tired after all, but he hadn’t felt it so it didn’t count. He woke Otabek up by jumping onto his bed and burrowing under the covers, laughing loudly at the way he had sat up with the worst bedhead in life, blinking in confusion, and grumbling how Yuri was worse than any alarm clock. They spent the rest of the day in bed, watching Netflix until they both nodded off again - Yuri sprawled across the foot of the bed while Otabek curled around one of his pillows, still buried under his covers. 

A knock on Otabek’s door woke him up sometime later. Otabek had closed the blinds, so he had no concept of time right now, but his brain was fuzzy and his limbs felt like lead. He grumbled and yanked a pillow over his head. He still heard Otabek slide from the bed and pad over to the door, then a soft conversation in Kazakh followed. Curiosity eventually won over and he sat up, craning his neck to see around Otabek’s bookcase to the door. 

He was talking to his mom, and fuck she was beautiful, dressed in a dark, shimmery dress with her hair pulled up, and surprisingly simple jewellery. The whole family was beautiful, actually - if they had pets he was sure they would be beautiful too. Eventually, Otabek sighed and switched on the overhead light, causing Yuri to bite back a swear as he was blinded. His mother smiled, reaching out to ruffle Otabek’s hair and pat his cheek, like he was a toddler, before she left. 

“So, uh, I forgot I promised my sister that I would babysit tonight,” Otabek sighed, coming back over to the bed, but then making a sharp turn to sit at his computer desk. Yuri sat up, swinging his legs over the foot of the bed. “Don’t think I can get out of it.”

“Oh.” Yuri shrugged. “That’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“Sorry, I know you didn’t come all the way here to babysit,” Otabek sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I can call Iska, if you’d rather hang out with him and the others tonight.”

Yuri wrinkled his nose; he’d rather stay with Otabek. His friends were cool and all, but he still didn’t know them that well. “It’s okay. We can have quiet days too, right?”

“Yeah, but still.” He looked down at his phone, adjusting his glasses. “They’ll be here in around ten minutes.”

So, Otabek’s sisters were identical twins, and he didn’t think that’s he’d ever be able to tell them apart. Her name was Hadiya and he committed it to memory, hoping that he’d never have to deal with them both in the same room. Adil had been a bit more reserved and quiet over dinner, but Hadiya seemed to take up the entire room - much like her mother. And her smile, holy shit, he wondered if Otabek could smile that brightly too. 

“I like your hair.” Yuri stared down at the largest pair of brown eyes he had ever seen. Maeena, Hadiya’s daughter, was clinging shyly to Otabek’s pants as she stared up at Yuri with wide eyes. 

Yuri grinned, stooping down. “Thank you. I like yours too. “

She giggled, covering her mouth and ducking further back behind Otabek. Yuri scoffed; she was adorable, with dark hair pulled up into little pig-tails and her purple, footie pyjamas. 

“What do you say, Maeena?” Otabek asked. 

“Um…” her eyes went wide.

“When someone tells you something nice?”

“Thank you?”

He scoffed softly. “Good.” 

She beamed, giving both of them a cheeky smile. “Uncle Beka, can we watch _Princess Butterfly?_ ” 

Uncle Beka? Yuri nearly lost it. Well yeah, he was an uncle but hearing it out loud. He snickered loudly, turning away. It made him sound like some old man. Otabek sighed heavily, and Yuri knew he was glaring at him. 

The Altins had a second living room, that also doubled as a play area for all the kids. It was upstairs, not too far from the bedrooms and rather than the neat antique furniture, it was full of plush recliners and a giant, cushy sectional couch. Maeena set herself up on one end of the couch, making sure all her dolls and stuffed animals could see the television screen, and had enough blankets to keep them warm. Yuri took at least ten stealth pictures, and updated his Snap story.

Once the moive started, some kiddy thing that Yuri had never heard of before, Otabek dimmed the lights and Yuri scooted over to give him room to sit down. Except when he sat there was an entire couch cushion between them. Yuri raised an eyebrow, glaring at the space between them. He didn’t know why he expected Otabek to sit down right next to him, but it felt weird that he didn’t. His stomach churned softly and his skin felt like it was moving. He rolled his eyes at himself; it wasn’t a big deal. But it felt like it was. 

He stretched his leg out, kicking Otabek’s thigh. Otabek raised an eyebrow, barely turning his head to look at him. “What are you doing over there?” 

“Hmm?”

Yuri huffed, tucking his legs back underneath him. “Never mind. Whatever.” Was it because of what he told him last night? Fuck, he was ace, it wasn’t as if he had the plague or anything. And Otabek had said that he didn’t care anyway. He grumbled softly as the back of his neck started to itch, and the churning in his stomach turned into hot irritation. 

“You’re not going to catch my asexuality, if that’s what you’re scared of.”

“Huh?” 

Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Yura, I’m not…” he sighed. “I just- it’s not that. I just sat down.” 

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Are you really mad at  _ that _ ?”

“I’m not mad!”

Otabek glanced to Maeena, but she was already engrossed in the show, fixated on a butterfly looking character.”Doesn’t sound like it.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

He ground his teeth as he looked down at his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolled without actually seeing anything. Fuck, it was that big of a problem, maybe he should have just kept it to himself, especially since Otabek was acting like he hadn’t even done anything different. Or maybe he was just making a big deal out of it, maybe he was just looking for something that wasn’t there. 

But it wasn’t just a coincidence that once he’d told Otabek that he was ace, he didn’t even want to sit next to him anymore. He noticed it over the next few days. Otabek refrained from touching him like he normally did, slinging an arm around his shoulders or waist, tapping his arm or back if he wanted his attention. Yuri hadn’t realised just how tactile Otabek was until then; until he was walking next to him on the way to the garage and he made a stupid joke. Yuri had paused waiting for Otabek to shove him, or grab his elbow while he chuckled and he didn’t. He was left blinking and oddly cold. And suddenly he felt like his best friend wasn’t even his best friend anymore, like there was a rift between them and he couldn’t cross it. Maybe he really was broken. 

 

“I can’t believe you’re leaving in two days,” Camran grumbled, running his finger along the rim of his cocktail glass. “How did two weeks pass already?”

Yuri shrugged, crossing his legs under the table at their booth. They’d gotten VIP access, thanks to Iska, and Yuri had tried not too look to impressed as they went up to a balcony with bamboo dividers separating each booth. It was mostly dark, but they had a lantern in the middle of the table that made all of them look yellow. There was probably some theme to the club, but Yuri didn’t even remember the name. It also didn’t help that he was already drunk. He’d been proud of himself for matching drinks with Bal, but then it hit him that he couldn't feel his tongue, or fingers, and his neck felt like a boiled noodle. He had still finished the dark and whatever he’d been drinking, knowing that it should have burned his throat and stomach. 

“Yeah, it shucks,” he answered, staring at his vodka and orange juice. He ignored the extra ‘h’ that his mouth had decided was necessary. 

“When are you coming back?” Iska deadpanned. 

“Uh…”

“Next summer?” Otabek asked with a crooked smile. Yuri frowned and turned to face him fully.

“Are you... in-in...viting me?” God, why was his tongue so hard to work? It felt like a brick in his mouth. He ran it along his cheeks and teeth, like he could stretch it out. 

“That’s so far away, though,” Camran huffed. 

Yuri turned to him. His head felt so wobbly, that he wasn’t even sure how fast or slow he was moving. “There’s always FaceTime.”

Camran pouted, and Yuri snickered at how cute he looked. 

“Don’t make him feel bad,” Roza said, swatting Camran lightly on his shoulder. 

“I’m not!” 

Yuri bit his lip, turning back to his drink, stirring it with the tiny, red straw. The ice clinked around in the glass. He didn’t really want to go home, not so soon anyway. When he got back to Saint Petersburg it was going to be all ballet and off-ice training. He’d have to go back to settling for talking to Otabek through a screen. 

Camran nudged him with his elbow. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked, smiling. 

“Sure, let me finish my drink first.” He picked up the glass, but suddenly Otabek’s hand was on his. He blinked, following the arm to the person it was attached to. His chest tightened at the touch and he gasped then held his breath. Be cool, Plisetsky, he could have kicked himself. 

“Yura,” Otabek said, shaking his head. “That’s enough.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. The tiny spark of whatever it was died out. “It’s just one drink.” He pulled his hands away, nearly spilling the entire drink all over his white shirt. 

“Yura.” His voice was firm enough to make Yuri’s spine tingle. 

“It’s okay, Beka,” Bal said. “He’s with us.” 

Otabek huffed, but sat back. Yuri stuck out his tongue at him, but when he finished the rest of his drink it tasted like bile, and he honestly thought that it was going to come back up for a few seconds. Maybe he should have listened to Otabek; he did know more about alcohol and stuff. He set the glass gingerly down on the table, wrapping an arm around his stomach, but Camran was already on his feet and tugged both him and Roza to follow. And, okay, he was wearing heels, but he’d never felt so off-balance before in his life; nothing was staying still, not the floor, not the table, or chair. He stumbled out of the booth, crashing into Camran. Fuck. 

Thankfully, Camran caught him, and began giggling as he helped him to stand up straight. Yuri’s face and ears were hot enough to evaporate, and his stomach was still trying to keep the last drink in place. Roza hooked an arm around his waist, letting him lean against her and he looked up, the back of his head bumping against her shoulder, to see her wink. Okay, he was so fucking drunk, but he couldn’t help but smile back. God, she was so pretty.

“You guys coming?” Camran asked. 

“No.” Iska, of course. 

He paid careful attention to his feet as they went downstairs to the main club. Stairs were hard; if Roza hadn’t been holding him, he would have fallen down like seventeen times. They had to go around the bar to get to the dance floor, but Yuri could feel the vibration from the speakers as soon as he stepped down the last step. Blue, green, and purple lights flashed and there was a fog machine around somewhere. He’d danced with Camran for what felt like hours earlier that night, and Roza had grabbed him for a song or two. Still, it hadn’t felt as hectic as it did now. 

“Shots,” Camran yelled from somewhere to his right.

Yuri’s stomach turned and jumped into his chest. 

“No,” Roza shouted from above him. Thank God for her. 

They made it to the dance floor and Camran pulled Yuri towards him. Yuri couldn’t hear a thing over the music, but when his face lit up with the pulsing lights he could tell he was laughing. So, he laughed too, even though everything was blurry and the crowd around them had morphed into a mass of shadows. His heart was pounding in time to the music, and everything around him was spinning and moving too quickly for him to keep up. The floor was tilting jerkily, no matter how many times he rightened himself. Camran’s hands were hot against him, almost burning, and made him shiver and his tingle wherever he touched. His hands were under his shirt on his waist, guiding his hips or whatever. Yuri just went with it, ignoring the way his stomach would tighten an lurch. If he swallowed hard enough it would settle for a few minutes, anyway. His shirt kept on sliding down one of his shoulders, it was supposed to, he knew, but he wanted it to stay up. Modesty and all that fuck. But he shouldn’t care, this was one of his last nights in Almaty. He should make it worthwhile. He did, throwing his hands over his head and dancing for real, ignoring every stumble and miss-step or every time someone bumped into him and nearly knocked him over. They were going to stay at the club until he closed, and he was going to dance until then. He couldn’t even hear himself laugh over the music. 

It took him a while to realise that he wasn’t hearing the music anymore. Well he was hearing it, but it was just a muffled noise, and everything was a multicoloured blur and his throat was dry and tight. He froze, or tried too, because the ground tilted backwards and suddenly he was staring right at one of the lights, but even that was dimmed and blurry. What the fuck? 

Something warm and hard was pressed against his back, and he blinked hard trying to focus. Was that Otabek?

“Beka?” he yelled, then an arm was around his waist pulling him into the darkness of the crowd. But his feet weren’t working, they kept on hitting into each other, tripping him up and holy shit he wasn’t standing anymore - why was he feeling the floor with his hands? And his stomach - was it possible for his stomach to squeeze itself into his throat? 

Then there wasn’t any ground at all. He scrambled for something to hold on to and when had he gotten outside? The lack of music made his ears start ringing. 

“It’s okay, Yura, I got you.” Otabek’s voice was right next to his ear, and it made sense why he felt arms tight around him and why his feet were swinging in the air. 

Oh. Beka. “Are you carrying me?” he asked, screwing his eyes shut and swallowing to keep his stomach down. 

“What?” 

“Are you carrying me?”

A sigh. “I can’t understand you.”

Huh? 

“We’re going home-”

“No!” He wanted to jump out of Otabek’s arms, but nothing was working. His body wasn’t listening to him and instead it just got heavier. Also why the fuck did his head suddenly weigh a ton? He couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed, but his eyelids felt heavy too. There was a lot of moving after that, but every time he tried to lift up his head it got heavier. Lights flashed around him, and he honestly felt like a ragdoll. And when everything stopped the world kept on spinning like he was in a washing machine. 

“Are you going to throw up?” 

What? He blinked; he was in a bed? He hugged one of his pillows, curling around it and swallowing. 

“Yuri?”

He couldn’t even find the energy to answer, shaking his head, feeling the smooth, silk bed sheets against his cheek. But then his stomach jumped, and he gagged loudly, tasting an explosion of bitter in his mouth. 

“Shit, Iska, the trash can!” 

Hands grabbed him tightly enough to bruise, and his chin hit the edge of something hollow and pasticy sounding. He was vomiting water, bitter tasting water, that stung his nose and made him tear up. His stomach was twisting so tightly that he felt it all the way in his lungs. It sounded like he was drowning too. 

“I told you he had enough to drink. He shouldn’t have had any of the vodka and orange juice.”

“Well we weren’t going to tell him no like he was some kid.”

“Yeah, and then we wouldn’t have  _ this _ ?”

Yuri grumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, only to have his hand tugged away and something cool and soft pressed to his mouth. It felt like someone had injected lead into his veins and it had hardened. He wanted to lie down; his entire body was screaming for sleep and he couldn’t fight it. Not even his bed spinning and swaying could keep him up.

He woke up feeling like his head was cracked open. Everything hurt, his throat was dry and felt like sandpaper and how was it even possible that he could still taste vodka? He groaned rolling over, wishing that he hadn’t woken up. He didn’t even dare to open his eyes, and covered his mouth as his body decided if it wanted to vomit or not. Fuck. there was no other way to discribe this than shitty. He wanted to vomit, he didn’t want to move, and it his skull was too small for his head. He had a migraine, a cluster headache and every other headache possible. A super headache. Shit. He was never going to drink again. Fuck vodka, fuck  _ alcohol _ .

Something moved beside him; the mattress shook slightly. “Baby’s first hangover?” Otabek’s voice was like a knife to his skull.

“Shut up.

 

“And these are  _ baursak _ ,” Otabek’s mom explained, handing him a small ziplock container of what looked like powdered donut balls. She had barged into his room, her arms full of packaged food and snacks. She’d gotten him almost a dozen blocks of  _ halva _ some with raisins, nuts, and seeds mixed in, and a weird chocolate-flavoured kind that he hadn’t tried before. His grandpa would love it, though, he hadn’t had  _ halva _ in a while. Not after his doctor said that he should cut back on sugar. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, wondering how he was going to fit everything in his suitcase. 

“You do know that they get  _ halva _ in Russia, Ma?” Otabek sighed, sifting through the bags she had set on the foot of Yuri’s bed. 

She glared at him. “It’s different here. Ours is better.”

“Doesn’t matter if it makes his suitcase overweight.” 

She ignored him, pulling Yuri into a tight hug. “I hope you have a safe flight home. And don’t be a stranger, you’re welcome back any time.”

Yuri’s cheek’s heated as he returned the hug. “Thanks.”

He somehow managed to fit all the snacks in his luggage, keeping some of the  _ halva _ in his hand luggage to eat on the plane. And after another linger hug from Otabek’s mom, and a firm handshake and small smile from his dad, he and Otabek were driving along the highway to the airport. He knew he had triple checked everything while he was packing, but he felt as though he was leaving something behind. 

“The two weeks went by so quickly,” Otabek mumbled, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the time of the song that was playing on the radio.

“Yeah.” 

“You’ll have to stay longer next time.”

Yuri shrugged, turning to look out of his window. “Dunno, might interfere with training.”

The rest of the drive was awkwardly silent, the tension between them thick enough to make Yuri start to sweat. Otabek stayed with him while he checked in and lifted his suitcase onto the scale for him. As they approached the security checkpoint Yuri stopped and sighed. He couldn’t leave it like this. Even if Otabek was acting differently around him, he didn’t want to end it like this. He clenched his jaw turning to Otabek and glared at him. He may not have wanted to touch him anymore, but Yuri didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around Otabek’s waist and hugged tightly, pressing the side of his face against his chest. He had to stoop down to get below his chin now, but it didn’t matter. Otabek hesitated for a moment before his arms were around Yuri as well. 

“You know,” Yuri mumbled against his shirt collar. “Just because I said I’m ace doesn’t mean you had to stop, like, touching me.” He felt so fucking petty for even saying that, but there was nothing sexual about hugging his best friend, right? 

“What?” Otabek breathed. “I… I didn’t, well I didn’t mean to.” Yuri huffed. “And I if I did, you being ace is definitely not the reason.”

“Right.” he rolled his eyes, wanting to pull away from the hug, but slumped against Otabek instead. 

“I said I was cool with it.” He  lightly cupped the back of Yuri’s head. “And I am.”

“So, they why… actually never mind,” he sighed, forcing himself away. 

Otabek’s hands lingered around him before he gave up and took a hesitant step back. “I just wasn’t sure...” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

Yuri’s stomach went cold. He’d been ace before, he’d always been ace, the only difference now was that he knew what it was a said it out loud. How did that change how he and Otabek should act around each other? 

“Okay, well,” he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and glanced to the growing line at the checkpoint. “We’re still friends, right?” That’s all that should matter. 

Otabek nodded, giving him a small, crooked smile. “Best friends.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will be updated **every other week** so the next update will be on **May 5th** \- if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my [Tumblr](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/) :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning  
> -Sexual content, gonna remind everyone here to take another look at the underage tag

“This is never going to work,” Yuri grumbled, looking down at the ID card in his hand. Mila had cornered him in the cafeteria and dragged him off to an empty table. It was also their first week of training, so that should have given him an idea of how the season was going to go.

“It will if you don’t open your mouth and ruin it,” Mila scoffed, rolling her eyes. She grabbed the card back, inspecting the photograph. “It looks just like you.”

“It does not!”

“Yes it does. Blonde hair and green eyes, you could be twins.”

Yuri glared. “Are you gonna make me say it out loud?” Ugh. “That’s a girl!”

Mila shrugged. “You can’t tell me you’ve never been mistaken for a girl before.”

“That’s not the point!” he huffed, reaching down into his backpack for the lunch Lilia had packed him before she left for her flight that morning.

Mila grinned, ripping off the top of her yogurt. “The point is, that girl looks similar enough to pass, especially in the dark.”

They didn’t look anything alike, apart from their hair colour. Yuri’s stomach was already starting to tighten. “Why are we doing this again?”

“ _Because_.”

She didn’t continue and Yuri growled.

“Mila!”

“It’ll be fun! If you had so much fun partying in Almaty, you need to come out with me.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “You didn’t care about it before.”

“You never asked.”

“I didn’t ask _now_.”

“Yeah, but I saw your Instagram feed and all your Snapchat stories, you can’t tell me you don’t like partying after that.”

“That was…” he huffed, unable to think of an excuse. “Fine.”

Mila grinned in triumph.

“So why do I need a fake ID?”

Mila smirked. “Cause you need to be eighteen to get into this club, and they _actually_ check IDs at the door.”

Yuri scowled. “This is illegal.”

“Yeah? And I know the drinking age is eighteen in Kazakhstan too, so…”

“Shut up.”

She cackled, sligning her arm around his neck. “Bring your things over to my place. Let’s get ready together.”

Yuri huffed, but it was just to keep up appearances; he couldn’t let Mila know that he actually liked getting ready with her. She always made hair and makeup so much more fun before a competition. But It was still kind of weird that she just suddenly wanted him to go out with her. Maybe she really had thought that he didn’t like partying before he went to Almaty, but to be honest he didn’t even know he liked partying before Almaty. And he wasn’t going to lie to himself, partying with Mila was something that he could get excited about. He would die before he told her that, though.

 

Yuri’s phone vibrated with a message and he sat down on the edge of Mila’s bed. He crossed his legs as he unlocked his phone, glancing up at Mila who was finishing up her hair. It was a message from Otabek and Yuri bit his lip. It wasn’t like they were fighting or anything, but Otabek had seemed distant since Yuri had left Almaty. He took hours to reply to his snaps and sometimes a day or two for texts. Yuri was sure he was busy getting back into training and coming up with his programs - he was also up to his ears with new diet plans, workout schedules, and studio time. But it still stung when he picked up his phone and there wasn’t even a word from him. And honestly, if him being ace was that big of a problem, he wished he had kept it to himself. They hadn’t talked about it any more; conversations about what they were planning for the next season took front seat instead. Yuri tapped open the message.

Beka:  
Are you going somewhere?

Yuri raised an eyebrow.

Me:  
Out with Mila  
And get a life  
I updated my story like two seconds ago  
Were you waiting?

Beka:  
Coincidence

Yuri rolled his eyes.

Beka:  
You look good

He grinned, fingering the hem of his black, leather skirt. It was much shorter than he had thought it would be when he got it, it barely covered his ass and he blamed that on _another_ growth spurt. Mila had paired it with a cropped, red, summer turtleneck and yeah, he did look hot. Plus, with the makeup maybe he’d be able to pass for the twenty-two that the ID card said he was.

Me:  
Thanks

Otabek didn’t reply after that, and for some reason disappointment chased itself around in his chest. He didn’t even tell him to be careful, like he normally did, or ask him to send pics, he just stopped talking. And why did that hurt so fucking much?

One of the main differences with partying with Mila was that he had to wait in a line. Both Otabek and Iska had status, and now he realised what exactly that meant. It took them fifteen minutes just to get to the bouncer. Yuri’s heart was pounding as he handed over the fake ID and watched, trying his hardest to look as disinterested as Mila, as the bouncer looked from the card to him. He was probably sweating, and he felt sick as he took a step closer to Mila. But the moment was over in a few seconds, the bouncer handed him back his card and stepped to the side, holding his hand out for Mila’s ID.

Seriously? Yuri took a deep breath; the ground was already tilting and he hadn’t even drank anything yet. He was about to step past, but Mila grabbed his elbow.

“Wait, Yu.. you need to pay-”

“Nah,” the bouncer said, handing Mila’s card back with a grin. “You two get in for free.”

Mila blinked a few times, then grinned widely. “Thanks!” she laughed, elbowing Yuri in the ribs.

He smiled too, remembering at the last second that it wouldn’t be a good idea for him to speak.

“What was that about?” he asked, once they were out of earshot.

Mila’s grin just widened. “He thought we were hot.”

“Huh?” he glanced back to the club entrance. “We got in free just because… that’s not fair.”

Mila grabbed his arm, dragging off in the direction of the bar. “I’m not complaining.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, trying to regain his footing with her dragging him like that. He really didn’t mind, though; tonight was going to be fun. The club was cool, not as cool at the ones in Almaty, but there was a stage with a fog machine, coloured strobe lights, and the dance floor had a mirrored ceiling. After introducing him to her friends, three girls whose names Yuri had already forgotten, and buying a few rounds of drinks, Mila dragged Yuri onto the dance floor. He went willingly, smiling from the alcohol.

“You know,” Mila shouted into his ear as she dance behind him, the sequins on the front of her shorts we scratching the back of this thighs, but he could ignore that for now. “I don’t know why I never invited you out with us before.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, arching his back so he could speak to her. “Aren’t I just a baby?”

“What? No, you’re not!”

He huffed, grabbing her arms to wrap around his waist. “Not what you said a few months ago. I’m a baby virgin, remember.”

“I did not say that!” She hugged him tight enough that he gagged. “God, are you still hung up about that truth or dare game?” Yuri wiggled out of her arms and spun to face her. She was still grinning and grabbed his hands, twining their fingers together. “If being a virgin bothers you that much, just do something about it.”

“What?”

She started to laugh and spun him back around. “No, that’s bad advice,” she giggled into his ear. “Really, Yuri, it’s no big deal. You’re not a baby.”

“Whatever.”

She hugged him again, forcing him to sway in time with the music. And with her yelling along to the song behind him and the beginning of a buzz at the back of his head, he couldn’t stay mad. He rolled his hips against her causing her to whistle and laugh, before resting her hands on his waist.

“We should have gotten you a longer skirt,” she noted and Yuri felt a swat against his butt cheek.

“ _Mila_!” He stumbled forward, yanking the hem of his skirt down. “Is it that bad?”

She seemed to think for a while. “Just don’t bend over.”

“I fucking hate you.”

They stopped after a while to get another drink, and meet up with Mila’s friends. He was mostly quiet as they brought their drinks to one of the tables that lined the edge of the dance floor. Mila must have known them for a while, because they were talking and laughing like old friends. He looked down into his glass, stirring it with his finger and watching as the ice cubes crunched against each other. He was happy to be here, but listening to Mila talk to her friends about people he didn’t know and stuff he had no clue about his stomach tightened and he felt a thousand eyes staring at him like he didn’t belong there. He scratched the back of his neck, pulling out his phone from the dumb bag Mila had made him bring, and scrolled through his Instagram feed, just to look like he was busy. The picture he had posted of him and Mila before they left was doing well even if most the likes had come from the Angels. He'd get to the comments later.

“Should I just go for it?” Mila’s blond friend was asking. Yuri didn’t mean to listen in, but they were literally right there. His thumb hovered over his screen as their conversation went on. “I mean he’s been really nice to me, but it’s been two weeks and I can’t get him a straight answer out of him.”

Yuri bit the inside of his cheek, taking a large gulp of his drink. Right, real people problems, something that he’d probably never have. He went back to his phone as Mila and the other two girls offered up their advice. It’s not like he’d be able to say anything anyway; he was a virgin. He didn’t know anything.

His stomach deflated at that, even though he could feel liquid sloshing around in it. He finished the last of his drink, swishing around in his mouth for a few seconds. And okay, he was having fun dancing with Mila, but what was he really doing here? He sighed, pushing himself from his chair.

“Bathroom,” he mumbled, not expecting Mila to wave at him.

“Wait, I’ll come too.” He raised an eyebrow and she punched his arm as she slid up next to him. “Like hell, I’m letting you go there on your own.”

“You’re going to follow me into the guys’ room?”

“No, you’re going to use the ladies.”

“The fuck I am.”

“You’re wearing a super short skirt and heels. Do you really want to test your luck?”

Oh, well she did have a point. In Almaty he’d always gone with Camran and Roza and wait, oh now it made sense why none of the bathrooms at the clubs had urinals.

Mila pinched the bit of bare skin between his skirt and shirt. “You’re so dense sometimes.”

“Shut up.”

She waited for him, leaning against the edge of the sink while on her phone.

“You’re not having much fun are you?” She asked as he washed his hands.

“I am.”

“I mean with Anna, Lydia, and Elena.”

“I don’t know them.”

She sighed. “Well, you’re free to tell me when you want to leave.”

He frowned, hating how the alcohol made his hands feel so numb and clumsy. “I’m fine.”

She squeezed his shoulder.

It sounded weird no matter how he worded it; there was a guy waiting for them outside the bathroom. He was fairly tall and lanky, with blond hair styled in a similar way to Otabek’s.

“Hey,” he called as they passed. Mila looked over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “You two are really cute, I saw you guys dancing earlier.”

“Thanks,” she smiled brightly, wrapping her arm around Yuri’s waist. Yuri eyed the guy up and down, unsure if he should feel threatened or not. “I’m Sasha, can I buy you guys a drink?”

Yuri’s eyes widened, was he hitting on them? Well, he couldn’t be trying to get both of them, could he. He looked down at his leather shoes, then up his dark jeans and plain button-up. He didn’t _look_ like trouble, not like some other guys with gelled hair and shirts unbuttoned to their chests, giant chains and watches that were pushy and touchy and all around disgusting. Their eyes met for a second, and Yuri’s heart jumped slightly. Not only were they bright blue, almost like Potya’s but he’d been staring right at him. His cheeks heated and he reached up to tug at a lock of hair.

“Sure,” he blurted right as Mila opened her mouth to answer. He felt her stare at him and shrugged, eyes still fixed on Sasha’s.

“We’re actually here with some friends.” She squeezed his waist.

Sasha's face fell slightly, but he backtracked scratching the back of his neck. “Ah, I get it. Well, it was worth a shot, right?”

“Right,” she winced, smiling.

Yuri stared between the two of them. Sasha was quickly backing away, and for some reason he panicked. “I’ll get a drink with you,” he said, his heart racing.

Mila’s head snapped towards him. “Yuri,” she began and he recognised the warning tone.

He scowled at her. Of course, she said that he wasn’t a baby but she still treated him like this. “I want to, _okay_?”

Sasha had froze, staring between them as Yuri unhooked Mila’s arm from his waist. She sighed heavily, giving Sasha one last glance. “Well, okay. You know where our table is. Text me when you’re… done, I guess.”

He ignore the glances she gave him as he stepped up to Dasha’s side. “I’m Yuri,” he said, grinning.

Sasha smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

Sasha seemed like a nice guy, he bought Yuri two drinks instead of one. The small talk was pretty easy, he found out that he was twenty-four and worked at an insurance company.

“I’m twenty-two,” Yuri answered after a moment’s hesitation. That’s what his ID said, and the last thing he needed was for someone to overhear him and get him kick out of the club.

Sasha smiled. “I’m not gonna lie, you look younger."

Yuri’s heart stopped, and he tugged at the same lock of hair. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

He chuckled. “So, you you want to dance?”

Yuri hopped off the bar stool, hoping that Sasha didn't notice that he had to grab the edge of the bar to stay upright. “Yeah!”

On the dance floor Sasha’s hands were hot against his sides; his fingers tickled and his palms were strangely smooth. It took  him a few moments to realise that the drinks were catching up with him. Now that he was standing, everything was tilting slightly and he felt both sleepy and energised, wanting to dance all night but also go home and put on his pyjamas. Sasha held his hips as they danced and Yuri shook his head, biting his lip as he tried to get into the music. Otabek had been right, EDM was easy to dance to; he didn’t have to think, only move. He rolled his body against Sasha, closing his eyes as he bobbed his head and let his hair fly around. Sasha seemed harmless at first, simply holding Yuri’s hips and he didn't know what changed when he suddenly felt a hand on his thigh, traveling up his skirt.

His eyes snapped back open, and he looked down at himself, basically squatting in Sasha’s lap. But, this was what people did right? This was how they danced, right? Well, it was how he had danced with Otabek. Kind of. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and refocus on the music, but the sudden movements made his world spin. He stumbled backwards, one of his feet bumping against Sasha’s and he tumbled against his chest. His arms were suddenly tight around his waist and chest.

“Woah,” he chuckled into Yuri’s ear. “You okay?”

His cheeks went hot, well hotter. “Yeah, uh, sorry.” He tucked a lock of hair behind his hair.

“You’re really hot, you know that, right?”

Yuri swallowed, his heart missing a beat. “Uh, thanks?”

Okay, this was how it was supposed to happen too, right? Fuck, why was he so nervous all of a sudden? They were just dancing and he already knew he looked hot, that was the point of his outfit and the makeup. But - he jumped as Sasha’s hand traveled down his chest, to his stomach, where he paused, toying with the waistband of Yuri’s skirt. Okay, was this okay too? He blinked, trying to clear away the fuzz in his head. This is what people did, well, what he had heard during that truth or dare game. He was just being a baby; fuck he was seventeen. He growled at himself, pressing back against Sasha’a chest. God he was so hot, had he always been this hot? He was fucking burning up.

Yuri turned around, breaking his already shaky rhythm, to ask Sasha if he was okay, but suddenly his hands were tight against his hips, pulling him flush against his body. Yuri’s eyes widened as his hands were pinned against his chest. Okay. Sasha was grinning, though, so it wasn’t all bad and a nervous giggle bubbled up his chest. Okay, right  this wasn’t bad at all, it was actually a bit fun. See, he was normal; he could do normal people things. Still smiling, he looped his arms around Sasha’s neck and slowly began swaying along with the music. Sasha went along with him, his eyes heavy-lidded as they moved, and one of his hands palmed his ass. It was almost a struggle to get his breath out and the fact that the room was both spinning and swaying didn’t help much either.

Everything after that happened so fast Yuri could barely keep up with himself. At first it seemed so slow; when Sasha leaned forward his sluggish mind barely recognised it. But then he blinked and they were kissing and he wanted to pull away, his heart going crazy, but at the same time a tiny fire sprung to life at the back of his ming. He could finally prove that he wasn’t just some weird, little kid. He would have his own wild, club story to tell the others. He wouldn't be the odd-one out. And Otabek wouldn't think that they were so different anymore. He pushed back, trying his best to copy what Sasha was doing with his lips and tongue. God, it was all so hot and slimy; were people actually supposed to like this? Okay, it was actually kind of gross, and he tasted like stale alcohol. He pulled away, biting his lip, but Sasha didn’t seem to care, kissing the side of his mouth then down his neck.

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” Sasha asked, his breath was hot against Yuri’s neck.

“Uh,” he held his breath. Okay, this was really his chance; his chance to prove that he wasn’t just some naive little kid, that he wasn’t weird or missing anything. His heart was going crazy, and he felt lightheaded in disbelief that someone would even ask him that. “Yeah.” He was going to do this. He wasn’t going to chicken out like he had done with that Canadian girl. He licked his lips with a dry tongue, looking up at him. Fuck he was actually doing this. 

Sasha's eyes were half-lidded in a sort of intoxicated smirk. The palm on Yuri’s back, was suddenly heavy and the one on his ass squeezed harder. “Your place or mine?”

Yuri breathed out slowly. “Um, mine?” That was safer right? Plus, Lilia wasn’t even in Russia.

Sasha was attached to his neck on the ride home, and he clumsily texted Mila that he’d left. He left out the part with who and why, but she was having fun with her friends and she sure as fuck didn’t need to babysit him. He squealed when Dasha pulled him onto his lap, a hand already traveling up his skirt hot against his thigh. He glanced at the driver, trying to pull away.

“Hey,” he mumbled against the side of his mouth. “Let’s, uh, wait.”

He looked up at him, smiling, and the alcohol made Yuri’s stomach bubble. His chest was so tight that it was hard to breathe.

Sasha couldn’t keep his hands off of him, not during the elevator ride or the short walk down the hallway. His mouth was like fire, and his hands were everywhere at once. Yuri was giddy, his head spinning and his skin was tingling. It was by some miracle that he even found his keys and unlocked the door without looking; Sasha had him pressed up against it, his mouth hot and heavy, as he licked and sucked, and bit occasionally.

When they tumbled into Yuri’s bed his skirt was already up to his waist and Sasha’s fingers were yanking at his underwear. Yuri froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“W-wait,” he yelped, breaking the kiss.

“Hmmm?” Sasha stopped, looking at him in confusion.

“I, uh.” Fuck, he thought he could do this. “Just give me a second. Bathroom.”

Sasha nodded, rolling off of him and Yuri scrambled from his room. Well fuck, what was he supposed to do now? He needed more alcohol. He wasn’t drunk enough. Okay, that was the problem. He just needed something to stop him from being so nervous. Literally every-fucking-body his age was having sex, so why couldn’t he?

Lilia had a pretty impressive liquor cabinet and he’d never even dared  to think about taking any, but now he really needed it. He pulled out a bottle of something dark, hoping that it was already open - it was - and drank a few mouthfuls straight from the bottle. He nearly threw up then and there, fighting to keep everything down. But he had a man in his bed and he needed this. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he winced at the taste and burn, but he should be fine now. He _would_ be fine now. This was his fucking chance. He was going to prove to everyone that there wasn’t anything wrong with him. He wasn’t a baby, and well, after tonight he wouldn’t be a virgin anymore either. He marched back to his room, keeping a hand against the wall for balance.

Sasha was waiting for him still on the bed, but had taken off his shirt, and belt, and his fly was undone. Light spilled into the room from the hallway, but it was thrown into darkness once again when he closed the door. The apartment was empty; he didn't have to close it, but he did anyway. Yuri swallowed, gritting his teeth to steal his nerves. He slid onto the bed, breathing hard, when Sasha motioned for him to join. God, he still felt like he was going to vomit. The alcohol didn’t intend to stay in his stomach. Sasha’s hand was steaming against his jaw as he guided him in for another kiss and the moment their lips met he was on top of him, pinning his body to the bed and kissing him like he wanted to fucking eat him. Yuri held onto his back, trying to get into it, but apart from the alcohol running through his body numbing his limbs and mind he didn’t feel anything. And, okay, having Sasha on top of him like this did feel kind of nice; he liked the weight pushing him into the mattress and he was so hot and big. Sighing into the kiss, Yuri let his eyes shut and wiggled until his could spread his legs open on either side of Sasha’s hips. Shit he was already hard; his eyes flew back open and he pulled away, his heart pounding.

“You okay?” Sasha mumbled.

“Yeah,” Yuri fought to catch his breath, “Just… yeah. Are we doing this or not?” he asked, more annoyed with himself than anything.

Sasha chuckled lazily. “Impatient, but yeah.”

He was on Yuri again, but this time one of his hands went under his skirt and straight for his dick. He squeaked and coughed, causing Sasha to chuckle again. It took him seconds to pull his underwear down to his ankles, and his shirt over his head. And Yuri felt dumb sitting in the middle of his bed with his skirt pushed up to his navel, so pulled that off as well. It was weird, he thought as Sasha laid him on his back, to be completely naked in front of someone else, someone that he didn’t even know, but there was also an excited spark in his stomach, something that made him shake in anticipation. No one would be able to tease him after this. Not after Sasha was holding his dick, pumping it slowly while the fingers of his other hand were skimming around his asshole.

The blankets poofed up around him, feeling almost scratchy against his back, and his skin felt like it was moving, like worms were wiggling inside of him. Sasha practically folded him in half, hooking his knees over his shoulders and his thumb nearly pushed into his entrance. Through his gasp, Yuri heard the crinkle of foil while the bed tilted and swayed.

“What are you doing?” he slurred, his mouth wasn’t his friend and it was incredibly hard to focus. He blinked, but nothing sharpened or made more sense.

Sasha chuckled breathily. “You can’t even wait for me to put on a condom?” he asked. “But, I guess you are pretty wet.”

He couldn’t be sure if he blushed or not, his face was already so hot.

It took another moment for Sasha to finish doing whatever, but not even the alcohol could have prepared him for this. He pushed in; he felt the exact moment ‘cause it fucking hurt, cutting through his drunken haze like a bolt of lightning.

He gasped, mouth falling open and he tried to pull away on instinct. But with Sasha on top of him there was nowhere to go. He dug his fingers into his arms, bit his lip, and fuck. Why did it burn so fucking much? He held his breath. How the fuck was this supposed to feel good?

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Sasha mumbled.

Yuri didn’t even know what to say; he wasn’t even sure that he could speak. He took a deep shaky breath, trying to concentrate on anything else, and he just had to fucking relax. He just had to relax until it was over.

But fuck, something was going to tear or he was going to rip in half. Shit, that would be a pathetic way to die. Hot tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and he breathed through his teeth. Fuck was it supposed to hurt this much? Should he ask? Sasha didn’t even seem to notice, he was just groaning as he pushed in. Slowly. Why the fuck was he going so slow, was he trying to draw it out?

Yuri screwed his eyes shut and bit his lip to keep every sound and breath inside. Okay, if it got worse he’d tell him to stop. He just had to think about something else and, fuck, this was a mistake.

Thankfully, it did get better after a while, after he had got all the way in - fuck that sounded so gross - and paused to take a breath. Yuri cracked open an eye, releasing a long shaky breath and the more he breathed the more he felt the stinging, burn fade. God, it felt so weird, he could feel Sasha’s dick actually inside of him. He could feel it with every throb of his muscles. He shivered, a part of his mind screaming that this was wrong. It almost felt wrong too, like when was it supposed to start feeling good?

Sasha started to push in and out in sort of jerky rhythm and Yuri had to hold onto one of his pillows. It didn’t hurt as much now, but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to get rid of the lingering soreness. And, honestly, he didn’t get the hype. He thought sex was supposed to be this magical, irresistible thing, that he would _get_ when he finally had it. But, it was literally just some guy sliding his dick in and out of his asshole and it felt okay, well kind of good actually, like sneezing after a really long time or how grazing his nails along an itch felt, but it had fucking hurt at first and he wasn’t even fully hard anymore and it certainly wasn’t anything he would be in a rush to do again. Yeah, it didn’t live up to the hype, especially now that he was moving Sasha was literally pushing the air out of his lungs with every thrust inwards, and he was beginning to sweat which made Yuri’s skin slip against him. It also took far too long, and when he finally rolled off of him, Yuri let out a sigh of relief.

They both just lay there, breathing heavily for a moment before Sasha rolled over to the edge of the bed and sat up. “That… that was good,” he mumbled awkwardly.

“Yeah.” Yuri’s voice felt like it was a mile away. The bed was moving, but he didn’t even feel drunk anymore.

“I, uh, I guess I’ll let myself out then.”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, where’s the bathroom, first?”

“The second door down the hallway.”

The mattress shook as he stood up, but Yuri kept his eyes fixed to the ceiling. So that was it. His limbs felt like lead, and his skin was all grimy and sweaty. His lips were raw and burning and his ass felt so incredibly sore and fucking used that he hurt all the way in his stomach. And well, maybe he shouldn’t have done this. Maybe this had been a mistake, because he didn’t even feel anything different, he just felt… even more lost and a little bit disgusted. So, he wasn't a virgin anymore. He hadn't imagined it would be quite like this. 

His eyes prickled as he heard the front door shut. How could Otabek do this? How could he just pick random people to go home and fuck and be alright afterwards? Fuck, okay, he wasn’t normal, and he was supposed to be asexual, but just fuck. 

 

“Yuri Plisetsky,” Mila’s voice was like a gunshot to the head. He should have just let the call go to voicemail.  “I’ve been trying to call you for hours!” Yuri grumbled, pulling his pillow over his head even though it did nothing to block out the sound of his phone. She was so fucking loud, even when he put her on speaker. “What the fuck? You don’t just leave like that!”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not like you missed me anyway.”

“Oh my God, Yuri, do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“You were busy with your friends all night!” His own voice made his head hurt more.

“You could have joined in, you know! I thought you would have liked to meet new people, but you stood in the corner and sulked like a child-”

“I’m not a child!” He flung the pillow across the room.

Mila sighed heavily. “At least you got home alright. What happened with that guy? Did he leave you alone eventually?”

Yuri hesitated, his breath suddenly coming in short pants and everything inside of him went even more wobbly. He propped himself up on his elbows trying his hardest not to hiss when it felt like someone was shoving a knife up his ass.

“Yuri?”

“I… uh…”

There was a moment of silence. “ _What happened_?”

His throat closed up instantly and his eyes started to prickle again. “I…” he took a deep breath.

“ _Did he hurt you_?”

“No… well - no-”

“ _What? Yuri-_ ”

“Well, I… he asked if I wanted to, you know.” He hoped she did.

“Ugh, guys can be such creeps. So you told him no and what?”

Um, well shit. “I didn’t.” Okay, he was going to vomit.

“What?”

“I didn’t tell him no.”

Mila was silent for a few long moments. Yuri’s stomach churned up a new sickness. “Yuri what the hell! You slept with him! Oh my God, what were you thinking?”

He ground his teeth. “Why are you getting mad? People do that all the time-”

“Do you know how dangerous that was? You don’t even know the guy! Fuck, where are you right now?”

“At home-”

“ _You brought him to Lilia’s apartment! Are you insane_!”

Yuri swallowed as the prickling behind his eyes got worse. “He left right after anyway.”

Mila gave a sort of muffled scream. “This is why I don’t bring you out with me! Because you always do dumb shit! Why would-”

“Fuck you! You and everyone else were on my case for being some dumb virgin-”

“No one was-”

“ _Yes_ , you were! Fuck, everyone laughed at me! They acted like I didn’t know anything!”

“That’s still not a reason to-”

“I’m not a baby! I know what I’m doing!”

“Do you, though? That guy could have had some kind of disease! He could have been a murderer, he could have drugged and kidnapped you-”

“People have one night stands all the time, so why is it such a fucking problem when I do it?” He was screaming so loudly his head was spinning, and he was really really going to throw up.

“It’s not because it’s you, it’s _how_ you did it! Shit, did that guy even know how old you were? Yuri, they’re so many messed up people-”

“I told him I was twenty-two.”

She groaned. “I can’t believe you!”

Yuri clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth until they hurt. His vision blurred and he roughly wiped his face. “You tell me I’m not a baby, but all you do is lecture me. You know what, just fucking leave me alone!”

“Yuri-”

He hung up on her, curling onto his side despite the protests from his lower back. Yeah, he knew he messed up, but he didn’t need her to rub it in his face like that. His stomach lurched just to make things even better and he leapt from the bed, nearly falling over when his legs gave out. Shit, even his thighs were sore.

Was it possible to turn back time?

 

“Hey,” Yuri mumbled at his computer, pinching the bridge of his nose. Otabek had the absolute worst timing. They hadn’t had a video chat in _weeks_ and he chose right now to call. He hadn’t been able to sleep anymore, and he found painkillers in Lilia’s medicine cabinet. His headache was now a dull throb, but he hadn’t moved in a few hours so he didn’t know about his ass. He had to steady the computer on his chest as he heaved a giant sigh.

Otabek didn’t even miss a beat. “What’s wrong?”  Yuri looked at the screen, scowling. “You look like… uh-”

“Shit?” he spat. “I know.” He felt like it too. The hangover was bad enough, and to have his ass and lower back kill him every time he moved made it worse.

“Had a wild night?”

“I drank too much.”

Otabek sighed, but Yuri could see the tiny smile. “You really don’t know your limit do you?”

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes and Otabek’s smile grew.

“Hope you still had a good time, though.”

His stomach dropped. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

It was as if Otabek had frozen in time for a second. “You guess?” He asked, worried. A small crease formed between his eyebrows.

Yuri sighed, screwing his eyes shut and biting his lip. “Beka,” his voice was already shaking. “I did something dumb.”

He was quiet for a while. “How dumb?”

“Like really dumb.”

“Are you hurt?”

He shook his head as everything in his chest tightened. “I brought someone home and I slept with them.”

Otabek’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ and his eyebrows rose up his forehead. Yuri looked away, his vision going wet and blurry.

“You… why?” he asked at length.

Yuri swallowed, but there was a blockage in his throat. “I… I don’t know. I just… I don’t know.”

Otabek fell into silence again. “You regret it.”

Yuri nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I didn’t like it. I thought, I don’t know. I thought I’d get what everyone is saying and I don’t and it fucking hurt-”

“ _He hurt you_ ?” Otabek snapped and when Yuri looked up he was shocked to see how mad he looked, dark eyes flashing and his lip curled up at the corner. “Who the _fuck_ is this guy?”

Yuri blinked as a fat tear rolled down his cheek before he could catch it. “I don’t even remember.”

The muscles in Otabek’s jaw bulged as he clenched his jaw. “If it hurt you he was doing a shitty job. Fuck, are you okay?”

He nodded. “I’m fine. I just… I don’t know. I feel, lost?”

“Lost?”

He swallowed. “I just want to be normal.”

“You are normal-”

“No, I’m not! Even when I finally had sex it felt so wrong and people like you can just go out and fuck someone and it’s no big deal!”

Otabek’s eyes widened. “I don’t… Okay, you can’t compare us that way. You’re not _me_ . What’s normal for _me_ isn’t for you, actually isn’t for anyone else. Not for Mila or… or Bal or Iska. Everyone’s different Yura. So, just because I’m doing something doesn't mean you should feel pressured to do it to.”

“But-” he cut himself off, shaking his head. So then why did everything change when he told him he was ace? “Do you think I was wrong?”

“I don’t think wrong is the right word. You seem confused.” Yuri scoffed bitterly. Yeah, confused. He didn’t know what he was doing after all. Like a fucking child. His eyes were prickling again. “Hey, you said you had no interest in sex, so don’t force yourself.”

“I just wanted to catch up to everyone else,” he mumbled his vision going watery again. This time he really couldn’t breathe, his throat was tight and his nose was blocked. “I don’t want to be left behind this way too.”

“Yura,” Otabek sounded alarmed. “Hey, don’t cry.”

He hiccuped. Fuck. He was such a dumb baby. “I got to go.”

“Yura, wait-”

“No, Beka, I just…” he swallowed, his cursor hovering over the end call button. “I’ll call you later.”

Otabek’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Okay.”

Yuri slammed his laptop shut rolled over to curl around his pillow but ended up gasping in pain as a bolt of pain shot up his spine. He screwed his eyes shut but hot tears still leaked out. God, what was he supposed to even do now? Grabbing one of his cat plushies, he ground his teeth, trying not to cry. Well, cry more. It didn’t work.

If it wasn’t for Potya scratching on his door and mewing pitifully he wasn’t sure how long he would have stayed like that. He grunted as he crossed the room to let his cat in and couldn’t help but smile when she barrelled past him and hopped up onto the bed, settling on the pillow he’d been crying into and blinking slowly at him. He hugged her to his chest and she started to purr loudly, going boneless in his arms.

He convinced himself to get up shower and eat something when he had woken up after dozing off with Potya. Lilia had left him plenty of oatmeal and fruit, so he made that for dinner. And he did feel better after he showered, cleaner in more than one sense of the word. But as he settled into the couch with his dinner in one hand, everything came crashing back. God, why had he done that? Why had he been so stupid? And after all that time Katsudon had spent helping him figure out what being ace was, he went and fucked it all up.

Katsudon. He pulled out his phone from the waistband of his sweatpants. Maybe he should talk to Katsudon about this. He’d get it, right? Mila didn’t and Otabek, well, Katsudon understood better. His stomach rumbled, yeah who would have thought that he’d ever been running to Katsudon for help. He pulled up his number and hit call before he could chicken out.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked as soon as Katsudon picked up.

“Yeah, sure,” he answered brightly. “What’s up?”

“I, uh, I need to talk to you about something personal.”

“Oh, okay, hold on just let me - yes, Vitya it’s Yuri.” He heard a few doors open and close. “Okay, what’s up?”

Yuri took a deep breath; the sharp twinge in his lower back pushed him on. “What’s sex supposed to feel like?”

There was dead silence on the line. He waited, but nearly a minute passed.

“Katsudon?”

“Uh, ummm, I… _What_?”

Yuri huffed. “Okay never mind.”

“ _No_ , not never mind! Just, uh… let’s talk in person. Do you have free time tomorrow?”

He took another deep breath as his stomach quivered. It was Sunday, he didn't have anything to do.“Yeah.”

“Okay, let’s get coffee or something.”

“Okay.”

There was a short pause before Katsudon sighed softly. “You’re going to be okay, Yuri. Whatever brought this on, it will be fine.”

Yuri swallowed. Yeah, he fucking wished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yuri's outfit ](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b7/89/84/b7898411f68587a33f885c26543730a4.jpg)   
>    
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>   
>  This fic will be updated **once a month** so the next update will be on **June 23rd** \- if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my [Tumblr](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/) :)


	9. Part III - Saint Petersburg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings:  
> \- discussion about sex/sexuality  
> \- vague allusion to rape
> 
> UPDATE 13/10/18  
> Changing the update schedule to one chapter per month.  
> The next update will be on **October 27th**

Yuri couldn’t bring himself to say a word as he and Katsudon drank their coffee in the small coffee house that was out of the way for both of them. His spine itched as he stared into the milk foam in his oversized mug, determined not to make eye contact with anyone in the shop. It was as if they could tell just by looking at him that he had let a complete stranger fuck him, that he had lost his virginity on a drunken whim. He wasn’t sure which was hotter, his face or the coffee. Curling his hands into fists on his lap, he ground his teeth against the stinging in his eyes and let his hair fall in front of his face.

Katsudon was silent at first, loudly slurping his own coffee and alternating between staring at Yuri and his phone, but eventually he began chatting about what he and Viktor were planning for the upcoming season, and their wedding. It was going to be in Japan, at Yu-topia. But Katsudon’s skating was more important, so he kept on having to reel Viktor back in. Yuri swallowed, he didn’t even know how he was supposed to skate tomorrow. Even just sitting down still made a sluggish, dull pain shoot up his ass. God, he’d fucked up everything so badly.

He let Katsudon talk until he had finished his coffee. Yuri had barely taken four sips, but he left it at the table when Katsudon asked if he wanted to walk around for a bit. Yuri nodded, hunching his shoulders as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“That coffee was really good,” he said, gently bumping into Yuri’s shoulder. “If only this place wasn’t so far.”

Yuri’s latte was curdling in his stomach, but he decided not to say anything. His stomach was so tight he felt it in his throat with each step he took. He just hoped that his limping wasn’t too noticeable.

“Hey, yoga!” Katsudon bounced up to a window to take a closer look at a poster. He squinted at it for a moment before turning to Yuri to ask him to translate.

“It’s the name of the studio,” he mumbled. “Not actually a word.”

“Oh.” He went back to reading and Yuri stared at his feet. “I kinda want to sign up,” he hummed after a while. “Just something laid back and calming to get away from all those drills and conditioning.” He sighed. “I can feel my knees breaking, every time I get on the treadmill. They have a Saturday morning classes… do you want to… try it?”

Yuri sighed softly, looking up. Katsudon seemed anxious. “Why don’t you do it by yourself?”

“Uh… never mind then.” He shook his head already walking off.

Yuri raised an eyebrow, then huffed. “Okay, fine. Fuck, I’ll do the class with you.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t-”

“I get it, Piggy. You feel awkward going by yourself.”

Katsudon narrowed his eyes, but then huffed and grabbed Yuri’s hand to drag him into the studio. “I know my Russian is getting better, but I still - I would feel better going with someone else.”

“I said I get it.” And he’d already done a lot to help him over the past months. They were even only out today because of him, so he could at least try to do something in return.

Katsudon closed his mouth with a snap, looking much happier. Yuri rolled his eyes, hanging back as Katsudon signed them up for the intermediate class.

“I haven’t done yoga in ages; I hope I can keep up.”

“You’re a professional skater for fuck’s sake,” Yuri grumbled. “A shitty yoga class isn’t going to be a problem.”

Katsudon chuckled. “Sorry, not all of us have rubber bones.”

“Whatever.”

Katsudon nudged him. “Do you _have_ to be so grumpy all the time?”

Yuri scoffed at the back of his throat. “Yes.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh I forgot. Teenage angst is like ninety percent of your public image.”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t feel like it - oh my God, look at that pet store!” He dragged Yuri inside and picked up a red and white checkered collar. “This is nice, I mean, I’d get it for Makkachin, but you wouldn’t be able to see it under his fur.”

Yuri snorted, he had the same problem with Potya. He’d gotten her a pink, diamond collar, but her neck fluff covered it completely.  “What about a bandana?” He pointed at a wall of different patterned bandanas.

Katsudon’s eyes lit up. “I didn’t even see those!”  Yuri actually laughed when he trotted over to the wall.

Katsudon ended up buying Makkachin two bandanas, a new water bowl, a bag of treats, and a squeaky toy. Yuri got Potya some treats, but they left the store with him complaining about how Lilia was going to make her fat because she kept on giving her snacks whenever she got the chance.

“So, uh, I don’t really have anything else to do today,” Katsudon said, scratching the back of his neck as they walked down his and Viktor’s street. “You can come over if you still still want to talk.”

Yuri bit his lip, looking down at his feet. “Where’s Viktor?”

“He shouldn’t be back until later. He said he was going to do wedding stuff, but I really have no clue what that means.”  He smiled, looking back at Yuri from over his shoulder.

“Uh, okay.” He didn’t really want to go back to Lilia’s place either. The empty apartment had made him feel worse yesterday.

So, minutes later he was settled on the couch with Makkachin firmly across his lap, chewing his new toy. He buried his fingers in the soft poof on top of the dog’s head, watching as Katsudon sat down on the opposite end of the couch with the television remote.

“So,” he prompted.

“So?”

A short sigh. “I know you didn’t call me just so we could spend the day together. What did you want to talk about on the phone yesterday?”

Yuri swallowed; he was going to be sick. Makkachin sighed, rolling over and shuffling so that Yuri’s hand rested against his belly. Looking down at the silky, pink skin, Yuri ignored the question for a while.

“Yuri-”

“I fucked up.” He balled his fingers in Makkachins fur. The words barrelled out of him like a fizzing bottle of champagne. His cheeks heated as his stomach rolled, the couch was even moving underneath him.

“You…”

He tried to clear his throat but it was so tight coughing only made it worse. Katsudon was going to be mad at him, just like how Mila had reacted. He was nothing but a dumb child who didn’t know anything, why did he think this time would be any different? He bit his lip, screwing his eyes shut, and took a shaky breath, but wetness still gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“Hey,” Katsudon sounded alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

He opened his eyes in time to see a teardrop soak into Makkacin’s fur. His throat felt like a steel trap was clamping down on it. “I fucked up,” he repeated. “I fucked everything up.”  Kastudon was suddenly next to him, his hand firm and warm against his knee. Yuri focused on it, the long, strong fingers against his boney, paper-white knee. “I… I went out with Mila last night. To a club. She got me a fake ID, and,” he paused, taking a deep breath, even though his skin was crawling and his stomach was clenching like a fist. “And this guy came up to me, and like bought me all these drinks.” He tasted bile at the back of his throat. “I brought him back home and we… we…”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Katsudon wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“No, it’s not!”

“Why?”

Yuri stared in disbelief. He had sex with some random guy, he was supposed to be ace, but he had gone and done it anyway, and it had hurt and didn’t even feel good. And Otabek wasn’t talking to him, Mila thought he was an idiot, he didn’t even remember the guy’s name, and he wished he could go back in time an undo it all. “I just want to be normal.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Katsudon took a deep breath before wrapping an arm around Yuri’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Yuri. Everyone does things they regret sometimes.”

“That’s it? You don’t have some lecture about how I was stupid?”

Katsudon blinked. “Well, I wish you hadn’t done something so reckless. I won’t even get started on the fake ID, but that’s not the problem. You’re confused right now, because you’re ace and you, well, had... sex.”

Yuri swallowed and he stared at Makkachin’s stomach, twirling a little curl around his fingers. “I just… I don’t know. I wanted to see if it was really… you know. If maybe I tired, I would just, like, be normal.”

Katsudon’s arm tightened around his shoulders. “And, you don’t feel _normal_?”

“Obviously not! I didn’t… feel anything. It hurt, and-”

“It _hurt_?”

“I _know it’s not supposed to-_ ”

Katsudon sighed again. “Oh, Yuri-”

“Yeah, I know!” He pulled away, elbowing the back of the couch. “I did everything wrong. Everything I wasn’t fucking supposed to! Happy? I’m a giant fucking idiot!”

“You’re not.” Katsudon was frowning, his voice loud and stern. “Don’t say that. Look, you’re asexual. Even if you have sex that fact’s not going to change.”

Yuri bit his lip. “Things would be so much easier if I wasn’t.”

“I know. It’s hard and confusing. But from what I know about you, you don’t back down from hard and confusing.”

Makkachin started to snore and Yuri watched his chest rise and fall. Katsudon was slowly rubbing his bicep, done with his little pep talk. But Yuri’s stomach was still tight, he still felt queasy, and like he didn’t want to be inside his own body. He ground his teeth, screwing his eyes shut.

“I regret my first time. What does that say about me?”

“It says nothing.”

“But I…” he broke off shaking his head. “I just don’t know.”

“Well, good thing I don’t expect you to.”

Yuri opened his eyes, slowly turning to face Katsudon head on. “What?”

“Well, figuring out your sexuality is a process. It involves you getting comfortable with who you are, and trust me that can take _years_ , _decades_.”

Yuri frowned. “Mila was mad at me. Otabek… I don’t know, I just… I can’t wait decades to stop feeling like I’m missing something!”

Katsudon shook his head. “Then maybe, stop thinking about it like you’re missing something?”

“What?”

He nodded. “Let’s focus on _how_ you actually feel about fitting in before you try to fit in.”

Yuri narrowed his eyes, but he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, throwing his head back against the couch. “You don’t make any fucking sense.”

Katsudon chuckled, curling his wrist around the back of Yuri’s head and threading his fingers into his hair. Yuri was leaning into the touch before he even realised what he was doing.

 

They were supposed to get back on the ice this week, and Yuri was itching to finally slip back into his skates and hammer out as many quads as he could. But before any of that could even happen Yakov tugged him to the physio room and told him to stand up against the measuring chart on the wall. Yuri’s stomach gurgled as he pressed his shoulders to the wall straightening his spine. He couldn’t have grown any more. The Olympics had been in fucking February, it was only July.

Yakov’s hum was anything but comforting. “Five centimetres.” Yuri’s eyes bulged. “I knew you looked  taller. You children and your growth spurts. We have some work to do this season, Yurochka. We’ll start with some new skates.”

“I don’t need new skates.” Yuri wrapped his arm around his stomach. There was no way he had grown five centimetres.

Yakov raised an eyebrow. “Fine, try on your old skates and let me know how that goes.”

Yuri groaned. “I just got new skates!”

“You did?”

Fuck. He pinched the bridge of his nose, stomping from the physio room. Yakov followed him like a shadow of death. “During the Olympics. My skates were too tight during my short program so I got new ones for my free skate.”

Yakov rubbed at his temples. “You tried to break in skates _during the Olympics_? Yuri Plisetsky are you mad?”

“My other ones were too tight! It’s not my fault my body is trying to sabotage me!”

He sighed, taking several deep breaths. “Just go try them on. If they still fit go warm up.”

 

“Hey, Beka, how tall are you?” It had been nothing short of a miracle that his skates still fit. But now his hips and knees were bruised purple with how many times he had fallen that day. Everything had just felt weird on the ice. He’d never felt this out of sorts after the off season before. He poked at a bruise on his knee, right where the skin pulled tight over his kneecap when he sat cross-legged on his bed. He winced as it spasmed right to the bone.

Otabek was sprawled across his bed as well, his glasses low on his nose and a protein shake in hand. His hair stuck up in damp, messy spikes; he had gotten home from practice fifteen minutes ago. He hesitated for a moment, squinting at his laptop. “170 centimetres. Why?”

“Damn.” Yuri looked back up to his computer screen.

“What?”

“I grew five centimetres since the last time Yakov measured me. I’m 168 now.”

“ _Five_?” Otabek raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I know. All my jumps are fucked. I could barely even do a _scratch spin_ today.”

“You weren’t _that_ tall when you left Almaty. I was taller than you by way more than two centimetres.”

Yuri shrugged, pulling on a grin as he picked the chipped nail polish off his index finger. “You scared I’ll get taller than you?”

“Never.”

“I’ll never get taller than you, or you’re never scared?”

Otabek sat up, leaning against his headboard and stretching his arms over his head. God, since when were his arms _that_ big? He looked away, something in his stomach telling him he shouldn’t be watching.

“I’m sick of growing,” he groaned. “Who the fuck has a growth spurt at seventeen?”

“Lots of people.”

“Except you.”

Otabek stared for a second before rolling his eyes. “Oh, I’ll get taller. I’m waiting for my last growth spurt.”

“Huh?”

“There’s one more to go. At thirty-five.”

He was so deadpan when he said it Yuri let himself flop backwards as he laughed. “You are an idiot.”

Otabek chuckled softly and Yuri rolled onto his side. He hadn’t brought up his sexuality since he’d let that guy fuck him, and it was almost like nothing had happened now. Otabek was back to being his best friend and as long as neither one of them mentioned anything about sex they could talk for hours.

It was good. He swallowed, tugging one of his cat plushies to his chest. It was good, because Otabek was his best friend and he would do anything to keep it that way. Even if it hurt sometimes.

 

Okay, his free skate program was kinda cool. No, very cool. He had told Yakov and Lilia that he wanted something completely different from last year and from what he’d done at the Olympics; he didn’t need that reminder hanging over his head. So he had killed any sort of theme that had to do with fire or passion. Lilia had uncovered some sort of ancient ballet that was about magic and moonlight and longing, and had Yuri spending hours in the studio, while he was trying to work around his newfound height on the ice. He come home with more bruises than the novices and certainly fell a lot more. Everytime he messed up a position, tripped, or just didn’t hold his arm right Lilia compared him to foal just learning how to walk.

“You could be so graceful,” she lamented, swatting his elbow into place. “Finally growing into yourself, such long, beautiful lines. But they mean nothing if you prance around my studio, flinging yourself like a drunken giraffe. Again, and pay attention to your arms, and _keep your spine straight_ , for God’s sake, Yuri Plisetsky.”

Yakov had turned into a drill sergeant, running him through basic manoeuvres, and the simplest spins and jumps in the book. He had forgotten how tiring and boring basic technical skills were, but after he’d nearly given himself a concussion trying to do a triple toe-loop Yakov wouldn't let him try any jumps.

But he’d eventually done it. He skated a perfect routine at practice that day, not a single fall or over rotation. Lilia had nodded at him a small smile on her mouth, while Yakov hugged him when he skated up to the boards. Yuri’s limbs felt like jelly, his knees and ankles were done for, but he had grown five fucking centimetres, and he was still able to do a Biellmann spin, so he allowed himself to be proud.

Later that night, still high off the adrenaline rush from completing a perfect program, he stretched out into a side split on his yoga mat. His hips were burning especially after the long day’s practice, but he sunk into the stretch determined not to lose an ounce of flexibility. Maybe doing Yoga with Katsudon would actually help.

He was scrolling through Instagram when a message from Roza came in. He tapped it open right away.

Roza  
You should post this

She had sent a picture of him from the pool party in Almaty. He rolled his eyes ignoring it for the time being.

Roza  
I was going through the summer pics and you actually look like a model in this one

Me  
Shut up, I don’t.

Roza  
I bet someone will DM asking you to sell fit tea 

Yuri rolled his eyes but tapped open the picture anyway. She’d managed to get a picture of him standing on the edge of the pool, looking down at the water with his shades reflecting turquoise and gold. He was tugging at the hem of his shorts, but it looked intentional. But also, his legs were crossed at the thighs making him look like he had some sort of curve and wasn’t just a twig. With a palm tree to his side, and a waiter with a tray of drinks, a few girls lounging on the pool chair, and the Almaty skyline behind him, it really did look like something an Instagram model would post. If he just wasn’t so pale.

Me  
I look like a fucking ghost

Roza  
Nothing a filter won’t fix.  
Come on, if you don’t post it I will and tag you in it.

Me  
Fine

He posted it to Instagram five minutes later. He couldn’t decide on what filter or what caption, but the minute he put it up his notifications lit up. Roza commented with a bunch of hashtags. Instamodel was the first one, followed by a bunch of random words that had Yuri rolling his eyes. Camran came in next calling Yuri gorgeous and tagging bodygoals. Yuri rolled his eyes again, but his chest tightened. Camran was really cool, and Yuri couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if they had met sooner. The notifications just keep on coming in, so he set down his phone to go shower.

Peeling off his damp leggings, though, and thinking back to the picture he just posted made him miss Almaty. It wasn’t fair that Otabek and his friends were so far away. He’d only known them for two weeks, but he missed them. It was weird; the only person he had ever missed before meeting Otabek was his Grandpa. He tossed his clothes in the direction of the dirty clothes basket and stepped into the shower. This was ridiculous; he was getting soft.

He should have known that he would get all sorts of disgusting comments on the picture. He should have known that his inbox would have been filled with people he didn’t even know. He sighed, and sat down on the edge of his bed still in nothing but his towel and went through the comments. He deleted every single one with the water drops emoji, and scoffed at the ones asking him to DM them about brand deals. He liked a few comments from his fan club and replied to Mila’s comment with the middle finger emoji. But it was all the same as when he had posted that picture of himself in a button-up shirt. There was nothing sexual about the picture, apart from him being in a swimsuit. There was no need for someone he didn’t even know to say they wanted to fuck him or hear him scream. He hadn’t asked for it, and he would never ask for it.

His skin was crawling and the elation from earlier that day but that was now quickly fizzling out. Why was everything about sex? He took a deep breath then another, locking his phone and tossing it behind him on the bed. Coldness was seeping into his fingers and stomach and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was only in a towel, with wet hair dripping onto his back and chest. God, this was making him feel so sick. Was he just really a piece of meat to these people? Just something to look at because he was pretty or an omega? He swallowed.

“Yurochka?” Lilia knocked once before opening the door and stepping in. “Come, it’s time to make dinner - oh. Sorry.” She stepped back out. “Hurry up, get dressed.”

Yuri sighed. “Yeah. I’m coming.”

He couldn’t shake the queasy feeling that had sunk its claws into his stomach even when Lilia set him up at the chopping board with four eggplants and a few tomatoes. Lilia moved around the kitchen in silence, gracefully dancing around Potya.

“You did very well at practice today,” she said when the silence got too heavy. “So, what is the matter? Usually you’d be chatting my ear off after something like that.”

“Oh,” Yuri shrugged. “I’m just not… I don’t know.”

She huffed. “You put in the work, and you got the results. You should be proud of yourself; that commitment and drive will get you very far.”

Yuri licked his lips, slicing the eggplant into thick stakes. “Thanks, I guess.” He was pleased with himself but that wasn’t the problem. “I just…” he took a deep breath. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Lilia froze in the middle of stirring ground meat into a giant pot. She looked at him, eyes narrowing, and Yuri instantly regretted asking. “What’s this about now?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” He tucked his hair behind his ear. God, Lilia didn’t want to hear any of this. What was he thinking?

“Yurochka, what’s bothering you?”

“It’s nothing.”

She sighed. “Did someone call you ugly?”

Yuri swallowed, moving onto the last eggplant. “No, just. I posted a picture online.”

“And it didn’t get enough _likes_?”

He rolled his eyes. “ _No_ . I’m not _that_ shallow, God. No it’s just… I don’t know. People have been leaving these gross comments ever since I…” he swallowed, cheeks heating. “Ever since I presented.” Well, not ever since; but they were bothering him a lot more now.

“Comments?” Lilia’s voice was sharp.

“Yeah. I don’t know. They make me feel all gross, like.”

“Should we talk to Yakov about this?”

Yuri shrugged.

She sighed softly. “It’s so different for you young omegas.”

Yuri felt his cheeks heat. Lilia was an alpha; she had gotten lucky. She didn’t have to deal with heats or suppressants or birth control or people saying they wanted to fuck her just because she was in a swimming suit. He wish he had presented as anything but an omega. It had been one of the worst days of his life. All he really remembered was his stomach cramping so badly he threw up and feeling so hot he’d stripped down naked under a single sheet. Lilia had stayed with him for a while, actually, stroking his hair with her blissfully cold hands and gave him painkillers to cut the worst of the cramps. He had slept through the most of it, but even his dreams had been heavy and weird.

He swallowed, setting down his knife. “But, uh. I mean I guess it’s mostly bothering me ‘cause I’m…” He paused to take a deep breath. Apart from Otabek and Viktor had hadn’t really told anyone. “I’m asexual.”

Lilia nodded, blinking slowly. “Asexual.”

“Yeah.” His face was on fire and he glared at the grain of the chopping block. “I’m just not interested in that stuff. Like at all.”

She hummed. “And how did you come to this conclusion?”

“I, well… Katsudon helped.”

“I see.” She tapped the spoon against the side of the pot before setting it down on the countertop. “And when people leave these comments on your pictures, you feel… disturbed.”

“Yeah…”

“Can you block or report them?”

“Yeah, I have.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Then maybe we have to think of another way to get rid of them.”

Yuri blinked. “Like?”

“Do they know you’re asexual?”

“Ace. But, um, no. I only told Beka and Viktor.”

“Maybe you should start telling people?”

“Um.”

“If it’s who you are Yurochka, there’s nothing to be ashamed about. I’m… happy for you. That you are truly growing into yourself. It takes courage to be your true self. A courage that not everyone has.”

 

It took him nearly a week to think of the post. He actually drafted the caption in his notes, making sure that everything was perfect and what he wanted to say. He knew he had to post a portrait, something artistic and maybe a little suggestive. He ha googled ideas.  Everything was going to be perfect.

Lilia’s apartment had an amazing view of Saint Petersburg. She was only a few streets away from a canal so in the evening when the sun hit the water right, it sparkled. He stood in front of the living room window, knowing the sun would make his hair look like gold fire. Back lighting wasn’t idea for a portrait, but he wasn’t really interested in showing his face. His back was going to be to the camera anyway. He stretched one arm along the window frame looking off to the side to get his profile and made sure his hair fell over his shoulder. He put his weight on one foot cocking his hip out to the side and waited for the timer on his phone to go off from it’s position on a makeshift stand of books and throw pillows. He’d take a few pictures, just to make sure everything was perfect, and prayed that Lilia didn’t walk in on him. Especially since to put everything all together he had done up his face with dark lipstick and a heavy, black smokey eye and was in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. He would crop it at his hips, but he was making a statement. And a powerful one too.

He chose a filter that would desaturate everything, and zoomed in right about the waistband of his underwear. The window took up most of the picture, but his body was outlined in yellow and gold and he could just pick up subtle highlight from the muscles on his back and shoulders. Yeah, it was going to make people pause their scrolling. It was the caption, though, that made him the most nervous. He was telling the entire world that he was asexual, that he was different and weird and he was demanding respect for it. He was calling out everyone who had left inappropriate comments on his posts, told him that they wanted to fuck him, or sent him dick pics.

He held his breath when he hit post and locked his screen as soon as it went up. He couldn’t breathe. But, it had been the right thing to do, Katsudon had even told him that he needed to get used to see himself as being ace to really accept it, and not just taking it as a word on concept. It was who he was, and fuck anyone who didn’t like it.

So essentially… fuck Otabek.

He chewed on a fingernail, running his opposite hand through Potya’s fur as she purred on his lap. His phone dinged and vibrated as notifications from Instagram, Snapchat, and Twitter came pouring in. He set it face down on his bed, putting it on silent, and cradled Potya to his chest as he stood up.

It was done. The world knew everything now, and he didn’t know what to feel.

Of course there were going to be some dumbasses who commented something dumb. But he didn’t expect his fan club to catch fire. He might have actually broken them. Yuri watched as tweet after tweet came in, calling him strong and valid and linking all sorts of LGBTQ articles and positivity. Yuri blinked at the amount of rainbow flags that had popped up in his feed. It made him almost breathless, something buzzing in his chest. He tapped on a gif of someone covered in multicoloured paint with the rainbow flag tied around their neck like a cape. He had expected to be called out, asked questions, or had to fight to prove himself or something, not to be immediately accepted into a  _community_. He bit his lip holding back a smile and went through and liked all the comments and tags, retweeting the ones that made his stomach fuzzy and his chest warm.  

He wasn’t alone. He curled around a fluffy pillow grinning. He was a part of something now.

A bit later Katsudon texted him a thumbs up and a heart. Yuri rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling as he flicked off his bedside lamp.

Me:  
Fuck off Piggy

Katsudon:  
Never <3

His skates felt extra light the next day, his entire body felt light, like he’d gotten ten hours of sleep. But he knew he had gotten something close to four, staying up to read more comments as they came in.

“So,” Mila started as he stepped onto the ice. She’d already warmed up and was stretching against the boards. Yuri bit his lip, knowing what was going to come next. “You’re ace now.”

It didn’t sound like a question. Yuri’s insides curled a bit. “I was always ace,” he answered carefully. “I’m just letting everyone else know about it now.”

She tilted her head to the side, but then smiled widely. “Okay. I guess that’s why you’ve never really… yeah. That’s cool, though.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, cheeks heating. “Shut up.”

“Well, if anyone gives you a hard time, send them my way.” She raised her arm tensing her bicep. “I haven’t beaten up anyone in a while.”

“I can beat up people myself,” he grumbled.

Mila reached out to ruffle his hair before skating off. “No one is gonna mess with my baby Yurochka.”

He stared at her until Yakov yelled at him to get moving. Feeling suddenly much heavier, he started his warm-up. There she was again with the baby comments. He wasn’t a fucking baby. She had liked his post, retweeted it even, but he wasn’t a fucking baby.

Otabek called right as he was unlocking Lilia’s front door, and he dropped his gym bag trying to answer it. It sounded like he’d dropped a sack of lead.

“Shit,” he groaned, before remembering that his skates were still in their own bag and slung over his shoulder, and breathed a sigh of relief, shrugging to make sure they were still there.

“Hey?” Otabek’s voice sounded from his hand. “Yura?”

“Sorry, uh, hey.” He held his phone to his ear with his shoulder, kicking his bag inside and letting the door slam shut behind him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just dropped… everything.”

Otabek snickered. “You’re just getting home?”

“Yeah.” Yuri flopped to the floor between the couch and coffee table. He pulled Potya onto his lap as she trotted up to greet him, leaving a train of fur on his sweat dampened shirt. He stroked her along her spine. “Yakov still thinks my balance is shit even though I’ve been landing all of my jumps _more_ than half the time.”

“Well who told you to grow five centimetres?”

“Shut up. You’re just jealous I’m tall and beautiful.”

“You wish,” He scoffed. “Uh, I mean, you are beautiful, though.”

“Shut up.” Something in Yuri’s stomach flip-flopped and the back of his neck tickled.

“Really, though. That was a really good pic you posted last night.”

“You think so?” He tugged his hair out of his ponytail and ran his fingers through to comb it. It was so greasy with sweat, his hand came back with residue. Gross.

“How many likes does it have now?”

He rolled his eyes. “Well what else did you expect me to do? Announce it on fucking Facebook?”

“No, but you nearly broke the internet.”

“I did not, shut up.”

Otabek chuckled softly and they fell silent for a bit. Yuri knew he was trying to figure out what to say, but he already knew he was ace and well, things hadn’t exactly been the same between them since.

“I, uh, Yura,” he sighed roughly. “That took guts. And honestly I happy that you shared it.”

“You are?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno.” Because he seemed to hate that Yuri was ace.

“Look, this is who you are. You don’t have to hide it or pretend or try to fit in anymore. It's about making yourself comfortable, right? And I don’t ever want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Yuri blinked. “I’m still me, you know.”

“I know.”

“You don't have to act any different.”

“I _know_.”

Yuri huffed.

“Has… anyone said something to you?”

“No.”

“So why…” he trailed off. “Okay, I guess this is kind of a confusing time for you. But uh, you know you can talk to me about anything. I mean, I’ve been researching stuff about asexuality-”

“You’ve been researching?” Yuri blinked, electricity shooting through his stomach.

“Well, yeah. My best friend just came out as ace. I need to know exactly what that means.”

“Oh.” Okay, he was doing that. Yuri’s chest fluttered and he buried his fingers in Potya’s fur.

“Yeah.” Otabek sighed. “So, uh… that pic… I’m almost speechless, though.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, entire face catching fire. “You couldn’t even see my face.”

“Bal printed it out and glued it to the back of my door.”

Yuri snorted. “Why the fuck would he do that?”

Otabek scoffed. “He’s a dumbass.”

Biting his lip, Yuri sighed. “I wish I could train in Almaty, you guys were so much fun. I hate being so far away.”

“You’ll just have to visit more, then.”

“I really want to.”

“Well next off season you have to spend more than two weeks. There was so much we didn’t have time to do.”

“Yeah.” His stomach gurgled, chest suddenly too small for how much he needed to breathe.

“My mom is already calling one of the guest rooms yours. Or maybe you could come for New Years?”

Yuri grinned. “Can I?”

“Of course, Yura. You can visit anytime you want.”

Yuri’s heart thumped; he could hear the smile in Otabek’s voice and something was swirling inside his chest, like thick, hot smoke. Okay, he had been crazy to even think that Otabek hated him because he was ace. Maybe he was just confused about how to treat him, maybe he didn’t know that he could still touch him even though he didn’t like sex. He shouldn’t have gotten so mad. Otabek was his friend, his absolute best friend; he should have trusted him a bit more. His bit the inside of his cheek, suddenly feeling so selfish and dumb.

“Hey, Beka…” he started, uneasily.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“For acting like such a brat. When I thought you were mad at me before I left.”

Otabek hesitated. “I… wasn’t mad… at you. I just… well yeah. I wasn’t mad.”

Taking a deep breath and slipping his fingers underneath Potya’s collar, Yuri nodded. “Okay, but you owe me a hug. A real one. Not one I forced out of you.”

Otabek chuckled, and Yuri’s heart stumbled over it’s next beat. “I can do that.”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes, rolling onto his stomach and kicking off his sheets. He couldn’t sleep, not when his stomach was tight was anxiety no matter how many deep breaths he took. The number of likes on all of his posts were still growing, even if he’d stopped reading the comments.

It was just one of them that had completely set him off, made his stomach roll skin itch and he briefly regretted posting anything in the first place. He had overlooked the other less than positive comments, focusing on all the good his fan club was actually doing for once, but after reading the latest one, they all rolled through his head.

What a shame, what a waste. You’re too pretty to not like sex. It’s only because you haven't been with the right guy. Challenge accepted.

_Challenge accepted._

He wasn’t a fucking challenge, some conquest for some sick fuck to claim.

He had shown Mila the comment and she had found the guy’s profile and dragged him, rounded up some of her fans and got them to drag him as well. His own fanclub had attacked like a pack of wolves and the guy had deactivated his account. But still.

He sat up, turning on his bedside lamp. Potya was snoring on an unused pillow and Lilia had come to tell him goodnight a while ago. Tomorrow was going to be another long day, he had both studio and ice time, but he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to sleep. Not when he felt like shit. He picked up his phone, scrolling through his contacts. Only hesitating for a second he tapped the call button and waited.

“Hey, Yuri,” Katsudon sounded way too bright for this time of night. He was a complete night owl though; Yuri had no clue how he was able to practice on only four hours of sleep sometimes. “What’s up?”

“Why do you sound so happy?” he mumbled, curling around a pillow.

“I sound happy?”

“Yeah.”

He hummed. “Viktor and I just nailed down some wedding details, so I guess I’m just a bit relieved.” Yuri rolled his eyes. “We finalised the wedding party, and uh, I guess I should ask you now, do you want to be one of my groomsmen?”

Yuri blinked. “Huh? Me?”

“Of course.”

“You want… me?”

He giggled, and Yuri frowned at how cute he sounded. “Well, Viktor and I had a rock paper scissors battle for you. I won.”

Yuri felt his jaw drop and the corners of his mouth stretched into a smile. “You two are so fucking dumb. You’re made for each other.”

“Aww, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. So, yes? Can I go ahead and put you down for a _Montsuki_ …”

“A what?”

“A kind of kimono. My side of the party is going to be dressed in traditional Japanese. I know mom and dad would want something more traditional so-”

“Sure.”

“Thank you so much, Yuri! I’ll go ahead and tell mom four-”

“Calm down, geez. The wedding isn’t until next year.”

Katsudon giggled again. “Yeah, but it’s still so exciting.”

“Next year.”

“Shut up.” He could almost hear him roll his eyes. “You’ll get it when you get married.”

“Ew, no way.”

He chuckled. “So what did you call for? Sorry, I kinda steamrolled-”

“Nah, it’s okay.” He took a deep breath, just now realising the comment wasn’t so disturbing, now that Katsudon had got him thinking about something much more pleasant. It was just a comment, and there were so many more important things he could focus on. The wedding was a big deal, even if it was _so far away_. “I, uh. You helped already.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

“Well. Happy to… help? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess… I, uh, just needed cheering up.”

“Okay… Oh. Uh, wow. You actually called me, for that… That… wow.”

He rolled his eyes, but it was a struggle not to laugh. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

“Oh my God, I hate you.”

Katsudon laughed a light bubbly sound, and Yuri suddenly felt light and airy as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels so good to be writing this again! Sorry for the long wait, but keeping up with two chaptered fics was difficult and I wasn't happy with how my writing turned out because of it. I didn't want to be putting out content that I didn't feel confident in, so things needed to be slowed down a bit.  
>   
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>   
> This fic will be updated **every month** so the next update will be on **October 27th** \- if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my [Tumblr](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/) :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- stalking  
> \- mention of rape

Yuri managed to get onto the podium at Skate Canada by the skin of his teeth. News articles began popping up speculating if his career was coming to an end; with puberty finally catching up to him. He tried to ignore those - it was just a fucking growth spurt - and Yakov suggested that he focus on the Grand Prix and forget the Challenger Series, at least until he got used to his new height in competition. It sucked, ‘cause here was Katsudon and Otabek, even Mila and Georgi having the best seasons of their careers and he was flutzing and liping even though in practice he had skated perfect routines more than three times. 

And what if he never got back to where he’d been before? What if he remained a graceless giraffe?

“I don’t know,  _ Deda _ ,” he grumbled into his phone. He had three more practices until the Cup of China and today had sucked. “It just feels off. Like I can balance fine one second then the next I’m all wobbly.”

Grandpa hummed thoughtfully. “Are you eating properly.”

“ _ Yes _ !”

“Then just give yourself time. There’s no rush for anything, Yurochka.” Yuri grumbled, slipping his finger under Potya’s collar as she purred, splayed across his chest. “You’re only seventeen; you still have so much in front of you.” 

“I know, I know-”

Grandpa chuckled. “ _ Yes _ , you  _ know _ . You know everything, right?” Yuri rolled his eyes; he wished he did. He barely even knew who he was anymore. Well he did, kind of. But he wasn’t the same person he’d been a few months ago, and that was almost scary. 

“I don’t know everything,” he mumbled. 

Grandpa chuckled. “And your studies? Yakov said you were having trouble with a literature essay.” 

Yuri groaned and rolled his eyes. He’d finally finished it two days ago; it hadn’t been his best work, but at least it was done. His tutor had read the first few sentences in front of him and sighed. “Literature is stupid. I don’t care about Shakespeare, or Chekhov, or Tolstoy-”

“Your Babulya would have washed your mouth out with soap. Only one more year, Yurochka. You can stick it out for that much.” He grumbled again, stroking Potya’s chin. “I still have her notes from university, I should mail you some.”

“Ugh, don’t! I barely have time to sit down and read my text books.”

Grandpa chuckled again. “Just you keep on doing your best. That’s all I could ever ask of you.” 

Yuri took a deep breath, a small smile cracking his mouth. “Thanks, Deda.” 

 

He got gold at the Cup of China. Lilia had hugged him in front of all the cameras. And then, in a few weeks, they were off to The Grand Prix Final in Quebec. It was his third time making it to the final, but that didn’t mean anything to his stomach. He could barely eat anything during dinner - and one of the rare times Lilia would have allowed him to break his diet. Mila had gone all out with a french fry dish called poutine, and dared Georgi to get the same. Katsudon had looked on wistfully, even though Viktor had let him order steak. Yuri could barely finish his grilled chicken salad picking at it with his fork and separating all the tomatoes and walnuts from the rest of the greens and chicken strips. He had to pretend to enjoy the cup of ice cream Lilia had set down in front of him when everyone else had gotten their deserts. Yakov had squeezed his shoulder and stolen a spoonful, then told him to head back to the hotel with Viktor and Katsudon when they were all done. 

They hung around in Viktor’s room after dinner, while Georgi, Yakov, and Lilia went for a drink at the hotel bar.. Mila was on her phone in the chair in the corner occasionally popping up to poke fun at Viktor, while Yuri hung upside down off the edge of the bed, listening to the blood rushing to his head. He didn’t even know how tomorrow was going to turn out, especially not with how inconsistent his skating had been this season. He could come in dead last for all he knew. And that would suck. Like, really suck, maybe even more than the Olympics had. He screwed his eyes shut as his head began to pound. He didn’t even hear Georgi enter the room. 

“Hey, Yurochka,” Gerogi said, the door slamming behind him. “You got a package.” 

“Huh?” Yuri rightened himself; the blood rush made his vision dance for a few seconds. 

Georgi patted the small cardboard box he had set on the edge of the bed. “One of your fans. The front desk said a group of girls dropped it off.”

“Oh, so popular,” Mila giggled. “All those gifts from preteen girls, how do you even cope?”

Yuri rolled his eyes, picking at a rainbow stickers that was halfway falling off the side of the box. 

“It’s cute!” Viktor sang, clapping his hands. “But…” His smile fell and he tilted his head to the side. 

Katsudon mirrored him, unplastering his cheek from Viktor’s shoulder. “But?” he prompted. 

“How did they know you were here? Did you check-in on Facebook?”

“Who the fuck uses Facebook?” Yuri grumbled, peeling back a corner of the tape with his nail. 

“Seriously, Yuri,” Katsudon added. “There are at least five different hotels close to the rink.” 

Yuri balled up the tape and tossed it in the general direction of the bin, and folded open the flaps. 

“I wouldn’t put it past the angels to go through all five,” Mila said rolling her eyes. “They’re rabid-”

“Fuck!” Yuri jumped to his feet, flinging the box across the room. His heart was beating in his throat, and already sweat was prickling at his back and armpits. “Not again!” 

Mila and Georgi looked at each other with wide eyes, while Viktor sprang from the bed and picked up one of the square pieces of paper that had fallen out of the box. He hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose and crumpling the paper in his fist. Katsudon had crawled along the bed to sit behind Yuri and pulled him to his chest, holding him tightly as Yuri just tried to breathe. It wasn’t working; it sounded like he was hyperventilating, and his eyes were wet and stinging. 

“What?” Mila asked, a tinge of fear in her voice. “What was it? What happened?”

“Georgi,” Viktor snapped. “Go back to the front desk; we need to know exactly who dropped that package off.”

Georgi’s eyes widened, but he hesitated to leave. “I…”

Viktor was rubbing his forehead as he pulled out his phone. “Someone’s stalking Yurochka.”

“ _ What _ ?” Georgi lost a few shades of colour and Mila’s eyes went impossibly wide. 

Yuri swallowed. “They’re here. That was a picture from the airport. They followed me.” Katsudon hugged him tighter.

“Georgi, any information at all.”

“Right.” He dashed from the room. 

Mila set her hand on Yuri’s knee and squeezed. “It’s going to be okay, Yurochka. We’re not going to let anyone hurt you.” 

He believed them; he just couldn’t breathe. 

Both Yakov and the police thought it would be best if he went to a new hotel. Viktor was already packing his bags but then Otabek had texted him that his flight had just landed. He didn’t know how it would even go when he saw Otabek in person again, but it would be better than spending the night away from everyone. 

He stared at his phone screen, taking a deep breath as he typed.

Me:   
Okay this is gonna sound weird, but I need to spend the night with you. 

Beka:   
Okay, no problem    
Why? 

Yuri sighed, glancing at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He was literally as pale as a sheet. 

Me:   
Yakov is going to call you to explain 

Beka:   
Did something happen?

The typing bubble popped up, but then disappeared after a few seconds. Yuri took another deep breath before sinking down on the closed toilet. This couldn’t be happening; it wasn’t real. God, all he had wanted to do was skate, and now this creep was after him. 

They snuck him out, bundled in a dark hoodie and traded his leopard print bag for a plain dark one. Otabek’s hotel was a ten minute drive away, and way fancier than the one they had been staying at. Otabek met them at the door, pulling Yuri into a tight hug as soon as he saw him. Yuri sagged against him, like weights were strapped to his arms and legs. 

“Yura, Oh Allah, are you okay?”

He nodded as they were ushered back into the lobby and Yakov went about getting Otabek a new room. 

“Try to get some sleep,” Yakov told him, hugging him tightly. “I know it might be difficult, but you need some rest before you skate tomorrow.” 

Yuri nodded and Lilia patted him on the head. He watched them leave, sitting on the edge of his bed as Otabek stood awkwardly in the corner. 

“Yura?” he began a few moments after the door shut. Yuri grumbled, flopping backwards onto the bed and screwing his eyes shut. “It’s going to be okay-”

“People are just so gross, God!” He sat back up, baning his fists against the matteress. “I didn’t even do anything! And there’s this creep sending me letters and stalking me and taking pictures! I hate it!”

Otabek sat down next to him. Yuri watched their thighs almost touch, siffling and determined not to cry. “It is disgusting,” he agreed softly. “But we’ll find out who it is, and they’ll go to jail.” 

“Yeah.”

“And you’re safe here. They can’t get into this room, and I’m not going to leave you alone, okay?” 

Yuri swallowed and nodded, balling his hands to fists around his knees. Otabek sighed softly before wrapping his arms around Yuri’s shoulders, pulling him tightly against his chest. 

“I promised you a real hug, remember?” 

A soft laugh bubbled out if Yuri’s throat and he held Otabek’s wrists, slumping against him. Yuri’s stomach was still a whirlpool, but with Otabek’s arms around him, holding him tight against his hard, muscled chest, he felt almost safe. And, God, he had missed him. He didn’t realise how much until then. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, pressing his forehead to the side of Otabek’s chest. “So much drama right before the short program, sorry if I mess you up.” 

Otabek, smoothed his shirt between his shoulder blades, before gently combing his fingers through his hair. “Don’t worry about me. I mean, I’m used to you bringing trouble. We’re friends; all of this is in the job description.”

Yuri pulled away from the hug, glaring. “This  _ isn’t my fault- _ ”

“I didn’t say it was.” Otabek raised an eyebrow, one of his hands coming around to trace along the side of his jaw. “You’re just too beautiful for your own good.” 

Yuri’s cheeks heated and he batted Otabek’s hand away, his stomach rolling again, and something hot sparking in his chest. “Shut up. That’s still not a reason for some creep to stalk me.” 

“I didn’t…” Otabek said, wincing and scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean it like that. No, there’s no reason for stalking. But you’re safe here.” 

Licking his lips and hoping that his cheeks weren’t too red, he stood up. “Yeah. Uh, I’m gonna shower.” 

Otabek blinked slowly before nodding. Yuri blow-dried his hair and braided it in a single plait  before going back out into the room. Otabek was on his laptop, but looked over his shoulder when Yuri came out. 

“Hey, I don’t know if you’re too tired or anything, but we could watch a movie to, like, take your mind off things.”

“Yeah.” The hot shower had helped, and he felt the jet lag gnawing at his bones. But a movie would be great. 

“Okay, pick something while I shower.” 

When Otabek was done, they both hesitated, unsure how exactly this was going to work out, but then Otabek pulled back the sheets on his bed and waved Yuri over. Yuri paused, they had done this before, watching movies, snuggled under the covers many times before, so why was his heart thudding and stomach rolling? He swallowed getting under the sheets. Otabek curled around him from behind, reaching over him to adjust the laptop screen. Yuri’s skin was prickling. 

“This is still okay, right?” Otabek mumbled. “I mean I said wasn’t going to treat you any different, but if you’re uncomfortable-”

“It’s fine, Beka,” he sighed through the thickness in his throat. “I was always ace, it’s just that I finally admitted it.”

“O-okay.” 

He hit play before settling down, and hesitantly throwing an arm over Yuri’s waist.  Yuri closed his eyes, even though the movie was starting. God, he’d really missed Otabek, and honestly he couldn’t even believe that he’d been worrying about him not wanting to be friends any more. He was always nothing but supportive and helpful and always knew what to do to make him feel better. And maybe he should really cut him some slack, because even though he seemed like it most of the time, Otabek wasn’t perfect. He was blunt and rude, he could be a sarcastic little shit, he was whiny and spoiled, a germaphobe, and apparently a bit of a slut. But he was still so smart and kind. Yuri reached for his hand, entwining their fingers before breathing in deeply and letting himself drift off to sleep. 

 

Yuri tried his best to focus the next day, but he couldn’t stop the cold shivers from traveling up his spine. He sat between Viktor and Katsudon for most of the day, and Mila and Otabek took their place when it was Katsudon’s turn to skate. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him, watching his every move and plotting to kidnap him, find him the second he was alone, drag him off in an old beat up van, and tie him up in a dungeon. Lilia went through some breathing exercises before he went on the ice, smoothing away any stray hairs even though she’d used an entire can of hairspray on him. 

“This is your moment, Yurochka,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “No one can take that away from you.” 

He nodded, because she was right, this was what everything was about, his skating, his career and no matter what happened off ice he still had to prove to everyone that he could be the best skater in the world. 

But, he couldn’t get into his routine that morning. He didn’t mess up on any spins, he’d flutzed his double Lutz and he’d fallen on his ass coming down from a triple axel, double loop combination. His technical points were a mess, possibly a personal low for him, but each motion felt mechanical. He knew what he was supposed to be doing, but he couldn’t muster up the feeling for it. His last spin was a Beilmann, his execution was perfect, but he felt himself shaking when he held his ending pose. Both Yakov and Lilia were silent as he skated back to them, but Lilia’s hand was tight around him as they waited for his score to be announced. He was fifth going in the the free skate, but he felt like he was walking through a cloudy storm, seeing everything through a grey film. 

 

“Hey, get dressed,” Otabek instructed him, as he pulled on a cream sweater. 

Yuri looked up from his phone, he was still in his costume and his hair was a stiff mess around his head. He’d pulled it out of the fancy braided bun, but it still kept the shape. “I’m not allowed to go out remember.” 

“We’re just going to the hotel bar.” 

“But the drinking age here is eighteen.” 

Otabek stared at him, slowly raising an eyebrow. “Okay, fine don’t drink.” 

“So then what’s the point of going?” 

“Because, we both made it into the Grand Prix finals and we should be celebrating. Look, Yura, I know we’re supposed to be careful, but the bar is secure and no one knows you’re here, and JJ and Leo want to meet up with us for a bit. Come on, let’s have some fun.” He gently kicked Yuri’s ankle. “You deserve it.” 

Yuri blinked. He really didn’t feel like going out, but staying cooped up in the hotel room had his skin itching. Especially since his performance from today kept on replaying in his mind. He had a lot on his mind, actually. So, maybe this would help. He looked up at Otabek, biting his lip. He wasn’t allowed to leave the hotel, but, like Otabek said, no one knew he was here, he would be safe too.

“Okay.” He stood up. “I need to shower though.” 

Otabek’s grin was tiny, but he nodded. “I’ll wait.” 

Yuri put on a white button-up, black jeans, and a dark red blazer. He left his hair down, but Otabek waited patiently as he did his makeup. He didn’t do anything much, just liner and a light coloured lipstick. The hotel bar was on a terrace above the pool, the blue glow shone through the windows, contrasting with the golden light from inside. Otabek chose a spot by the glass wall at the corner of the black, marble bar and sat down, looking down at the water.

“We should go for a swim after,” he mused.

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “It’s winter.”

“It’s heated.”

“I don’t have a swim suit.” 

He grinned, shrugging a shoulder. “Not a problem. You can go in naked.”

Yuri punched his shoulder. “Fuck off!” 

“Never.” 

Yuri snorted when he laughed. Otabek’s smile made the skin around his eyes crinkle, and Yuri honestly loved when that happened, when he let himself be all happy and playful enough to let his guard drop. 

“Hey, your routine today was really good.”

“Hmm, thanks,” he scratched the back of his neck. 

“No really, you beat Katsudon, I mean that’s kinda hard to do now.” 

“You were-”

“No I wasn’t. I sucked. I know I did.” He sighed, looking down at the bartop. “This growth spurt fucked me up badly.” 

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Yeah, and then I’ll grow more.”

He swore under his breath “I hope not.”

Yuri scoffed. “I’m gonna be taller than you!” 

He rolled his eyes before waving for the bartender. “In your dreams. Sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

“If they don’t ID me.” 

“You do realise you look way older than seventeen right?” 

“I do?” That was a first. 

“Especially with makeup. Stop worrying.” He asked for a screwdriver for Yuri and something dark on the rocks for himself. 

Yuri still looked around, waiting for someone to stop him before he took a sip. “Do you even like that?” He asked, watching as Otabek winced before swallowing. 

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

“It just burns a bit on the way down.”

Yuri scoffed. “You’re just trying to look tough.”

Otabek’s eyes narrowed. “Please, you really think I’m still trying to impress  _ you _ ?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stuck out his tongue, just the tip, though; he wouldn't do more in public. “Whatever you think it means.”

Yuri nudged him with his shoulder before turning back to his drink. Otabek chuckled against the rim of his glass. 

“Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean you get to stop trying.”

“I’ve already stopped,” Otabek grinned. “The next time you see me, I’ll have a full beard and weigh like 120 kilos.”

Yuri’s nose burned when his drink went up his nose. He coughed, punching Otabek’s arm. Otabek took a triumphant sip, grinning with his eyes, instead of replying. 

“I can’t imagine you with a beard,” Yuri started, but trailed off when Otabek reached into his pocket for his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, eyes scanning across. 

“JJ and Leo are here, I’m going go get them,” he said, tucking his phone back into his pocket and standing.

“Oh, okay.” Something heavy settled in Yuri’s stomach. 

Otabek squeezed his hand. “I’ll be right back.”

Yuri took a deep breath, his spine immediately starting to itch and he pulled out his phone. God, why was it so awkward to sit at a bar alone? He scrolled through Instagram even though he’d already seen all the posts and only realised he finished his drink when he tried to sip from the empty glass.

“Yuri… Plisetsky?”

He perked up at his name looking around until he saw a tall man with bright red hair and a bushy beard staring directly at him. 

He locked his phone screen, half-turning in his seat to look at him fully. “Yeah? Um…”

“I knew it was you.” He broke out into a large smile sitting down in Otabek’s seat. “I saw your performance today. I’m a huge fan, or my daughter is.” He chuckled, pulling the stool closer to Yuri. “She’ll be so upset when I tell her I met you.”

Yuri blinked, taking a deep breath. Great. Well there went the secrecy. He’d probably have to change hotels again. Forcing a chuckle, Yuri tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “So, uh, do you want an autograph or something?” 

“Yeah, that would be…” something flashed across his face, “I just don’t have any paper,” he waved at the bartender asking him for a pen and notepad. He looked annoyed but told them to wait a few minutes. 

“I could just sign a napkin,” Yuri shrugged.

“I would rather this to last.” The guy grinned. “Your performance today was beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

“The way you glide across the ice… and those jumps and spins,” he hummed, shaking his head. “I can see why my daughter is obsessed with you. And your costume really suited you, so elegant, the program actually. You look good in black and blue.” 

Yuri bit hit lip. Fans could be so weird. Like thanks for the support, but when a grown man told him that he liked his costume, things got a little creepy. “Uh thanks,” he said, staring at his lap.

“You don’t believe me?” He ducked, curling in his seat to get in Yuri’s line of vision. 

Yuri jumped back, startled. What was with this guy? Could the bartender take any longer with the pen and paper? “I believe you-”

“Because you did look amazing out on the ice. You should have gotten first, I don’t know what the judges were thinking.” His eyes hardened and his smile fell for a second. The back of Yuri’s neck started to itch. Okay, he needed to get rid of this guy. Where the fuck was Otabek? 

“Uh… my program wasn’t that great. I… under-rotated -”

“It. Was. Perfect.” 

“O...okay.” He squirmed on his seat, trying to think of an excuse to leave. “Are you sure you just don’t want me to sign a napkin? Maybe the guy would take the hint and leave. But fans normally didn’t. They got too excited to remember to act like decent human beings.

The man winced before dragging a hand down his face. “It would mean a lot to my daughter. She wouldn’t let me hear the end of it, if I saw you and didn't get your autograph.”

But he was offering to sign something, did it have to be a piece of paper? What was this guy’s deal?

“But this is taking a bit long, huh?” The guy went on, scratching the back of his neck. Finally, reason. Yuri had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Why don’t, you just come up to my room to meet my daughter? I’m on the second floor. It won’t take long.”

Okay, no. That was not okay. Nothing about this was okay. Like hell he was going to go up to a complete stranger’s room to meet his daughter. If he even had a daughter. “I… don’t think so.” 

Something dark crossed the man’s face, and Yuri’s stomach started to churn with discomfort. 

“Come on,” the man sounded frustrated, his voice climbing in pitch. “It will only take a second.”

Yuri shook his head, pushing back his stool and standing. This guy was a creep, there was no chance he was going to sign anything for him now. But as soon as his feet touched the ground the guy lurched forward, grabbing Yuri’s forearm. 

What the fuck? He froze, but his heart started to thud heavily and quickly and his stomach slowly rolled, tightening and shaking. Okay, fans also forgot that it was so not okay to just touch someone like that. He couldn’t even count how many times the Angels had grabbed him when he stopped for autographs or pictures. But this… this wasn’t some pre-teen girl throwing his arms around him for a hug, or yanking at his jacket to get his attention. This was a man, at least two heads taller than him, stopping him from leaving. This was different, dangerous.

“Hey, look.” He ground his teeth, trying to stop himself from looking like a scared child. “I’m not going up to your room.” He tried to yank his arm away, but the guy held on tighter, his expression darkening by the second. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, the bartender should have gotten the paper by the time I get back.” He didn’t let go, and Yuri was sure that he’d start hyperventilating soon, or his heart was going to give out. “Let me go, or I’m calling security-”

“No,” he ground out. Yuri felt all the blood drain from his face like a waterfall. “No.” His hand closed around Yuri’s arm like a bear trap. “I did not come all this way, work this hard, for you to leave.”

There was no stopping the fear from showing on his face now. He couldn’t breathe, his heart was beating in his throat and he suddenly had to pee. It was  _ him _ . The stalker, the guy who wanted to fucking kidnap him and  _ breed _ him. Oh, God. he opened his mouth, ready to scream for help, but nothing came out, and his vision started to blur. Why wasn’t anyone doing anything? Didn’t they see them? This wasn’t supposed to happen, he was supposed to be safe here, Beka was - God, what was going to happen to him? 

“Now,” the stalker hissed through his teeth, bending to speak right into Yuri’s ear. “You’re coming with me, back to my room.” 

“Where is that little, blond brat?” JJ’s voice echoed above the dull roaring conversations and the clinking of glass and silverware. He’d never been happier to hear JJ even as he found Otabek’s gaze, pleading with him to help. 

There was a split second pause where their eyes met. Yuri couldn’t even move his mouth, it was frozen open in fear, but Otabek dashed across the room, Leo and JJ catching on a moment later. 

“Yuri?” Otabek called, as he hurried over. 

The stalker tensed, yanking Yuri’s arm hard and pulling away from the bar. Yuri found his voice then as the bones in his wrist ground together. “Beka, it’s  _ him _ !” Otabek’s footsteps were quick and heavy. 

He let go of Yuri, pushing him back against the bar as he barrelled past an empty table. Otabek darted around to cut off his path, JJ followed, weaving his way in between tables and chairs ignore the outraged yells of the other guests. Yuri wanted to throw up watching as Otabek grabbed the guy by the back of his collar, yanking hard and pushing him to the ground, and bringing down an entire table with him. His ears were ringing when JJ yelled for security and for someone to call the police, and he almost didn’t believe his eyes when Otabek drew back his fist, punching him straight in the jaw. He flinched when a heavy arm was wrapped around his shoulders, but then looked up at Leo who offered him an uneasy smile. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

Yuri nodded, swallowed, and told himself to stop shaking. Why was he shaking? “I’m fine.” He muttered, not even hearing his own voice when a few hotel security guards came stomping in, pulling Otabek off the stalker and restraining the both of them. He was glad that Leo was holding him up, because he wasn’t quite sure that his legs were working too well. 

 

It was turning out to be one of the longest nights in Yuri’s life. All he wanted was to go back to his room, take a long hot shower and curl up under the blankets. He let Yakov and Lilia handle the police, only speaking when asked a question only he could answer. Katsudon, hugged him tightly the entire time, stroking his hair and murmuring soothing noises. The police had searched they guy’s room, apparently he’d checked in earlier that evening, but they’d found more pictures of Yuri, a cheap printer, and a journal. Yuri didn’t need to ask what was in the journal, but he’d never seen Yakov look so sick or enraged after one of the officers had told him in private. He had shaken his head at Viktor and Lilia and the three of them had to take a moment outside. 

He could guess what it said, though. His insides felt cold and empty like a wrung-out t-shirt, and he couldn’t stop himself from rubbing at the place on his arm the guy had grabbed. He found himself shaking his head at himself, he had spoken to his stalker like he was a normal fan, he’d offered his autograph, he’d let him  _ touch _ him. God, if Otabek hadn’t come back when he did - he cut himself off, swallowing and somehow Katsudon knew to start rubbing his back and take him on a short walk up and down the sidewalk in front of the police station. 

He was dizzy, he wanted to vomit, and each heaving breath he took was bitter. 

“Hey, you’re safe now,” Katsudon said softly. “No one’s going to hurt you. You’re okay.” 

“I could have been kidnapped.” His mouth moved on it’s own. “I could have-”

“No,” Katsudon hushed him. “You’re safe now. He’s in police custody, he can’t hurt you.” 

Yuri snorted. Hurt, right. Hurt was a fractured bone or concussion. This guy had wanted to do so much more. It left him feeling dirty, like spiders and soil had been poured into his stomach. But at least he didn’t cry. 

They got back to the hotel close to midnight, and Yuri was glad that they had the day off tomorrow. He was supposed to go watch Mila compete, but now he didn’t even want to leave his room. 

“Do you want to stay with us?” Katsudon asked, still holding him tightly around the shoulders as they crossed the lobby. 

Yuri swallowed. He was fine. Everything was okay now. But, Katsudon’s offer sounded like the best thing ever. “You guys only have one bed.” 

Viktor patted the top of his head. “Children sleep in the same bed as their parents all the time.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “You’re not my dad. God, it’s a joke, a  _ dumb _ joke.” 

“We can ask the front desk for a cot,” Katsudon suggested.

Yuri took a deep breath, letting his eyes fall shut as Viktor pressed the button for the elevator. He was fine now. It was all over; Yakov assured him they’d be pressing charges. The guy would be locked up for the rest of his life. “I’ll be fine here.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. It’s not like he can break out of jail anyway.”

Katsudon hugged him tighter, and Viktor squeezed his shoulder. 

 

“Is your hand okay?” Yuri asked. He’d been sitting in the centre of his bed, combing out his wet hair. Otabek had been staring at the television even though it was off. He had been silent since Yuri had come out of the shower. 

“Huh?” he blinked, jumping as if startled. 

“When you punched him…”

“My hand… is fine.” Otabek sighed, dragging his hands down his face and turning to face Yuri. “Yura, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I thought it would be okay-”

Yuri swallowed, looking down at his legs. “I’m fine, Beka. Nothing happened.”

“But it could have-”

“ _ Nothing happened _ .”

“Yu-”

“Look, I don’t want to think about what could have happened. I’m fine. Okay? I’m  _ fine _ .” His hand trembled around the handle of his brush. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Otabek sighed. “I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, well… you punched him really hard.” 

Otabek snorted bitterly. “I should have done more.”

“ _ I _ should have punched him.” Otabek raised an eyebrow. “I dunno, I just froze.”

“You were scared.” 

Yuri sighed, screwing his eyes shut. “... Yeah.” 

There was a short silence before Yuri felt the mattress sink somewhere to his right, and Otabek’s broad, heavy hand was warm on his knee. Yuri cracked open an eye; Otabek looked so tanned and gold compared his paper-white skin with blue-green veins running underneath. When he looked up at his face, he’d never seen Otabek’s eyes so deep or concerned. He dropped his brush, launching himself across the bed, and flinging his arms around Otabek’s neck. God, he was so warm and big, and Yuri felt so tiny with his arms wrapped around him. He was safe now, he reminded himself. Safe. Otabek  _ was _ safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will be updated **once a month** so the next update will be on **November 24th** \- if something changes I'll let you guys know over on my [Tumblr](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/) :)


	11. Part IV - Hasetsu

The Grand Prix final hadn’t gone great. Yuri knew from the second he set foot on the ice for the warm-up that he had no chance. His mind was so far away, he was surprised that he had even been able to lace up his skates properly. The paparazzi hadn’t been any help either; Yakov had almost picked him up, shoving his way through cameras and microphones. They had been yelling questions, and not all were about skating. It was like they could sniff out drama. He had no clue how they even found out. They weren’t even supposed to know which hotel he was staying at. But the stalker had found him without a problem, so maybe nothing was a fucking secret after all. Yuri could only imagine what a mess he must have looked- pale-faced and dazed, even though Lilia had tried her best with his performance makeup. He hadn’t dreamt and had woken up in the same position he fell asleep, but everything still felt like it was moving at ten times the speed and he couldn’t keep up. 

Everyone was walking on their tiptoes around him. Fucking JJ even wished him good luck instead of his customary taunts, and both Otabek and Katsudon didn’t leave his side once. He would have told them to fuck off, but every time he opened his mouth nothing came out but a choked breath that cause Katsudon to hug him tightly. Yeah, the competition was going to be shit. 

He hadn’t even been shocked that he’d come in dead last. He couldn’t even be angry.

He and Lilia went back to Saint Petersburg before the award ceremony and the gala, after a quick discussion with Lilia, Yakov, and Viktor. Otabek helped him pack, folding up all his balled up clothes with his lips pulled into a tight line. 

“Call me if you need anything,” he mumbled. 

“I will,” Yuri answered, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him fold his shirt with expert precision. 

“I mean it, Yura.”

“O… kay.” 

Otabek took a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears. “Fuck, Yura, I’m so sorry-”

“No, Beka. It wasn’t your-”

“I shouldn’t have left you alone. That was so stupid of me.”

“I said it was fine. I’m okay!” 

Muscles in Otabek’s neck and jaw bulged. “If you had gotten hurt, it would have been because of me. It’s not okay.”

Yuri swallowed; his skin was itching. “I… Beka…” he didn’t know what to say. Even now the back of his neck was still prickling and his wrist felt like it was bruised when it wasn’t. “I think… I just need some time. To… uh.” He didn’t know what he was saying. He wrapped his arms around himself. “I dunno this whole year has been… shit. Basically.” Otabek looked up, biting his lip. Yuri sighed and continued. “I was shit at the Olympics, and then there was all this drama about me being ace, and now this… and my skating has sucked. I’m getting too tall. Fuck I came in  _ last _ -”

Otabek moved like water. He was at Yuri’s side in an instant, hugging him tightly. Yuri closed his eyes, leaning into him. God, he smelled so good, like cinnamon and fire. Yuri held onto his shirt until there was knocking on the door. 

“Yurochka? We need to leave now.”

Otabek squeezed him before pulling away. “I mean it. Call me. About anything. I’m here for you. Always.”

Yuri nodded, forcing a smile. Otabek ruffled his hair and smiled back. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, though. 

Two days later he was hugging Grandpa at the airport. Grandpa held him tight enough that he could force himself to forget how shitty everything was. He breathed in deeply, burying his nose in Grandpa’s old scarf. The wool was rough and itchy, and smelled like the back of his closet, but Yuri fell into it all the same. He could feel grandpas shoulder blades even through his coat, but he was still so big and warm and his hug was exactly what he needed. 

Grandpa stroked his hair, soft breath ghost across Yuri’s temple. “How was your flight?” 

Yuri took a deep breath, slowly pulling away. “It was okay. I’m starving, though.” 

Grandpa chuckled and guided him over to the car by his shoulder. “Good thing I made double the amount of piroshki this time.”

Forcing a grin to his face, Yuri hiked his bag higher up in his shoulder and took a quick look around before lifting his suitcase into the trunk and rushed to the passenger door. When he sat down and slammed the door shut, his heart was pounding and his stomach was tight. He swallowed, gripping his jeans at the knees. 

“Are you alright?” Grandpa asked, raising and eyebrow. 

Yuri nodded. “Can we just go? I’m tired.” 

Grandpa patted his knee and started the car. Yuri took a deep breath staring at people milling around the airport sidewalk in the side mirror.

 

“Your hair’s gotten long,” Grandpa observed, watching Yuri from across the kitchen table with his chin propped up on his palm. 

Yuri had changed into a pair of sweatpants after showering, but he still couldn’t stop the stabbing anxiety in his gut and had made sure grandpa wasn’t looking when he double checked that the front door was locked and no strange cars or people were outside. Yuri hummed through a mouthful of piroshki, and looked down at his damp hair. It was way past his shoulders now, hanging in darkened, limp clumps. He hadn’t seen Grandpa in person since last year; he didn’t mind him pointing out all the differences. He’d already commented on his height.

“Yeah. It does that.”

Grandpa narrowed his eyes, and even though his moustache hid most of his mouth Yuri knew he was still smiling. “It’s… pretty.” Yuri knew he didn’t mean it like that, but the piroshki landed in his stomach like a frozen clump of dirt. “You look so much like your-”

“I’m gonna cut it.” The words barrelled out of his mouth on their own. 

Grandpa blinked. “Hmm?”

Yuri shrugged, setting down the last bit of his piroshki and wiping his hands on his pants. “Is the barber we used to go to still open?” 

“Yes.” He stroked his beard. “I thought you were growing it out.”

“I changed my mind. It’s annoying, way too much work, and… I… it makes me look like a girl.” 

Grandpa blinked. “And what’s the real reason?”

“Huh?” 

Grandpa got up and began clearing away their plates. “You said you were growing it out.”

Yuri swallowed, staring at the holes in the crocheted tablecloth. “I just want a change.” 

“A change?” He heard him filling the kettle. 

“Yeah. I just… too many people think I’m something that I’m not.”

“Which is?” 

Yuri bit the inside of his cheek. “Nothing. You wouldn’t understand.” 

“How do you know that?” His voice was sharp and Yuri chanced a glance to see him staring. 

“It’s just… omega stuff.” His cheeks heated, and God, why couldn’t he have just been a stupid beta?

Grandpa cleared his throat. “Do… Do you need me to call Nelya?”

“God,  _ no _ !” 

“Yurochka, if you need to talk to someone-”

“I don’t, okay. I’m just,” he huffed, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Grandpa set a hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing slow circles against his back. “I’m just tired of people looking at me and seeing this weak omega-”

“There’s nothing  _ weak _ about you.”

Yuri scoffed. “No, I just look like…” he trailed off, glaring at his lap. All he was was  _ pretty _ , something for alphas to look at and fantasise about. His skin itched, and he rubbed at his wrist, feeling phantom bruises and goosebumps along his arm. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being pretty, Yurochka. That man was sick and twisted in the head, nothing was your fault, and you don’t have to change anything because of it.” 

So, Yakov  _ had _ told him. 

“I know. I’m not _just an_ _omega_ and I need to people to know that too.” God, he was a world champion figure skater. He had more gold medals than he could even display in Grandpa’s living room, and he was one of the best skaters in Russia - he _knew_ he was. So fuck everyone who had ever commented on one of his pictures about how sexy he was or what they wanted to do to him. Yuri Plisetsky was a badass and he wasn’t going to let a bunch of dumb alphas shake him this much. Except, why was he still so fucking scared? He looked at his laps as he tucked his feet under himself. His ankles pressed hard into the chair

Grandpa’s lips were a wisp against his temple. “Okay, I’ll make an appointment. Should I tell him you want a mohawk? Something multicoloured and spiky?” 

Yuri rolled his eyes, not missing the smile in Grandpa’s voice. “No! You think I want a mohawk?” 

Grandpa chuckled, going over to pour the boiling water out into two mugs when the kettle began to whistle. “Lilia would kick you out of her apartment.” 

Yuri scoffed. “Yeah, she would.”  

She would rather him bald. And a Mohawk would be cool, maybe a faux hawk, or an undercut like Beka, or even a side cut. But, he tugged at a clump of hair, grimacing, maybe that was too much. Still, if he changed this, then maybe he could start changing other things too. 

Still, as he watched gold locks litter the floor of the barbershop the next day, his stomach felt like it was on fire. The strands tickled his neck as they fell, and his eyes stung a bit. He couldn’t even glance at the mirror, and he knew he was sweating under the plastic cape. He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to tremble when the barber brought out the clippers and the buzzing was loud in his ears. 

The whole appointment didn’t take longer than twenty minutes, but he had to wipe sweaty palms on his jeans as he stood from the chair and stared at his reflection. His hair was a little shorter than chin length now; the barber had used the clippers to clean up the back of his neck. The hair there was almost like an undercut, soft and velvety, somewhat like Beka’s, but not as thick. Otabek was going to flip his shit, though. So was Mila and maybe Viktor, and of course Lilia was going to chastise him for not telling anyone before hand. He scoffed at himself; at least their reactions would be fun. The barber had given him a straight cut, slightly longer at the front than the back, if he wanted more he would have to go to a hairdresser, but he wasn’t too sure what to think. Maybe he  _ had _ done this too quickly, maybe he should have thought about it more, or actually told the barber more than just to cut it off. He stared at himself in the mirror, parting it to the side and covering the right side of his face, like how he used to style it a few years ago. It was similar enough to be comforting, bringing him back to a time when his secondary gender wasn’t the first thing on his mind.

It was going to create some sort of backlash on social media. Definitely. His fan club was either going to hate it or love it an he briefly wondered if he should get a pixie cut like Camran. Maybe he could get some dye and do cool multi coloured streaks or something. Or he could go completely black, or even dark brown. That was sure to make the news. Okay, yeah; he could get excited about this. Yeah, and when he posted the reveal, it would totally work with a dark smokey eye and bold liner, and maybe a nude lip - no. He chewed the inside of his cheek, that’s what started this entire mess. But, if he stopped posting selfies, did that mean that the fucked up alphas had won? 

He rolled his eyes, turning around just in time to see Grandpa pull out his wallet to pay. He pushed in front of him at the cash register and held out his card. Grandpa grumbled, poking him in the ribs. 

“I know you don’t like being called pretty,” Grandpa said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as they walked back to the car. “But you’ll always be beautiful to me.” Yuri rolled his eyes, but his stomach fluttered. He didn’t mind it when it was Grandpa. “You look so much like your babulya.” And he knew that was one of the biggest compliments he could ever get. 

Yeah, dyeing was out of the question. 

 

“Your hair!” Otabek’s eyes would have piped out of his head if he hadn’t been wearing his glasses. His mouth fell open and he stared at Yuri his eyes flickering all over his face. “Wow.”  

Yuri chuckled, tugging at one of the locks around his face. His stomach was bubbling. He’d been switching between loving it and thinking he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life. “Yeah, I chopped it off.” 

“You did it yourself?” Of course  _ that _ would be what he was worried about. 

“No. I went to a barber.” Yuri rolled his eyes. “So, uh, what do you think?” 

Otabek paused, tilting his head sideways. “It’s cute. It makes you look a bit younger, though.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, the bubbling in his stomach getting worse. “You suck.” 

“What?” 

“You just suck.”

“Sorry, it’s just a big shock. I thought you liked it long.” 

“I did.” He swallowed. “But, I wanted a change.” 

Otabek nodded. “Fair. It is really cute, though. I’m not lying.”

“Thanks.”

“How’re you doing otherwise?” 

Yuri hesitated. He didn’t need to know about the nightmares or the anxiety that came every time he set foot outside. He certainly didn’t need to know that he’d gone over to help Neyla make dinner the other day cause he couldn’t stay in the apartment by himself or he’d break down. Katsudon said he’d feel better in time, and that he needed to give himself a break. 

“I’m fine.” 

Otabek raised an eyebrow. “You sure?” 

“I… yeah. I mean I haven’t really gone anywhere since I got home, but I think I just need to stay inside for a while.”

“That’s okay, Yura.”

“And maybe learn like self defence or MMA-”

Otabek chuckled. “I can send you some videos.”

“You know MMA?” 

“A bit.”

“Of course you do. Fuck. I’m surprised you didn’t break that... guy’s jaw.”

He snorted. “I should have. Fucking bastard, I hope he rots in prison.”

Yuri grinned. They’d gotten the restraining order sorted out. The guy wasn’t allowed near any ISU sanctioned event, or anywhere near him, but Yakov and Lilia still wanted to take it further. Suing, sending him to prison, Yuri didn’t know, but he kind of just wanted to be done with it all. “What if you’d broken your hand?” 

Otabek scowled. “I wouldn’t have broken my hand.”

Yuri shrugged. “Faces are hard.” He held up his fists and punching the air. “Next time I’m gonna be the one punching someone in the face.”

Otabek frowned, eyes following Yuri’s hands. “You’ve punched someone in the face before?” 

“Uh,” he looked down at his hands. “Yeah. When I went to school in Moscow.”

Otabek sighed, but his small smile made Yuri grin again. “I’m not even surprised.”

“They deserved it! They were all assholes.” He rocked backwards, staring at the ceiling. “What about you? Did you start any fights at school?”

Otabek scoffed. “My mom would have killed me. Nah, I was a saint.”

“Yeah, right.” Otabek chuckled. “What would Iska and Bal say? They went to school with you, right?”

“Uh, you don’t need to ask them anything-”

“Oh my God! Beka! What did you do?”

“Nothing, I was a saint.” He folded his arms across his chest, biceps and pecs bulging. 

Something in Yuri’s chest fell out of place as he looked at him, but his stomach was warm and doing backflips. Yuri rolled his eyes, suddenly glad he called him.

 

He decided to post a selfie after all. Right after he ended the call with Otabek, he gathered up all his makeup and took over Grandpa’s bathroom - the only room in the house with counter space  _ and _ good lighting. It was late, and he was only going to do up his face to take it off later, but he was sure that he wanted to do this. 

His eye bags were insane. God, no wonder Otabek had asked him how he was, and he put on more concealer than he normally would. But, he paused and stared at one of his eye shadow palettes. He liked makeup, it was fun, but he wanted something different for this. He just did liner with a small barely there wing and mascara. He went extremely light on the contouring, and chose a lipstick that was nearly the same as his natural lip colour. Grandpa did a double take when he walked in and found him sitting on the counter. 

“Send me a copy when you’re done taking pictures,” he said, ushering Yuri out of the bathroom so he could use the toilet. 

Taking the picture was the easy part. It was thinking of the caption that had him stumped. Maybe he should just let it sit a while, but his skin was itching and he needed to do  _ something _ . He ended up on his Twitter, and his fingers flew across his keyboard like they had a mind of their own. 

**IceTiger_Yuri @yuriplisetsky:** Ok I’m sure most of you already know but here’s my take. Stalkers DO NOT equal Fans. I love my fans I’m so grateful for all the love and support. BUT someone who claimed to be a fan violated me made me feel like I wasn’t even a person (1/8) 

**IceTiger_Yuri @yuriplisetsky:** I’m not gonna lie I was freaked out and the thing is I didn’t do anything to make this FAN so obsessed with me. I post seflies, I skate, I wear makeup and I like dressing up. Apparently that’s too much for people (2/8)

**IceTiger_Yuri @yuriplisetsky:** Here’s another thing I’m a professional athlete and up until a year ago that’s what I was. What changed? I presented as an omega. So who cares about all the hard work I put into my career all I need to be is pretty, right? (3/8)

**IceTiger_Yuri @yuriplisetsky:** Yeah I shouldn’t let this bug me but I don’t spend all day at the ice rink just so some idiot can tell me my ass looks good. And some of you idiots are gonna say that I should be thankful for the compliments (4/8)

**IceTiger_Yuri @yuriplisetsky:** But I didn’t fucking ask! I’m a PERSON I don’t like feeling like I’m not. I’m here because of hard work and dedication and I’m not going to be reduced to eye-candy for horny alphas. I don’t care what you’d like to do to me (5/8)

**IceTiger_Yuri @yuriplisetsky:** I don’t need to hear that you want to get me alone. It’s fucking sick that we live in a society that thinks it’s okay to just say things like that. I’m not here for that. I’m here to show off my hard work and career (6/8)

**IceTiger_Yuri @yuriplisetsky:** And another thing I’m ASEXUAL. I DON’T WANT YOUR OVERUSED DEROGATORY COMMENTS!! I’m not here for a hookup, I don’t want a boyfriend, I’m not interested in seeing your dick. So fuck off (7/8)

**IceTiger_Yuri @yuriplisetsky:** I’m here to say I’m proud of myself who I am what I’ve done and YES what I look like. To all you sick fucks, I’m gonna continue to do what I want. #teatime #asexual #Imnotapieceofmeat #omegaempowerment (8/8) 

He posted the selfie with the last one and grinned as he waited for it to upload. Screw Otabek; his haircut wasn’t cute, he was edgy as fuck. Even with his minimal makeup, he’d mussed up his hair into an artfully messy look. There was nothing soft or smooth and he stared at the camera with a curled lip and narrowed eyes. His fans had loved his hair; he was so going to get people crying about the length now. But he had to own it, even if he still wasn’t convinced that he liked it. 

Mila called him two seconds after he’d posted the picture to Instagram and copied his rant into the caption. His stomach was bubbling when he hit the answer button. 

“Oh my God, Yuri!” she yelled. “You cut your hair!” 

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to! We could have picked something out together! I mean I love it, of course, but you’re always so secretive about stuff like this.”

He rolled his eyes, wishing that he had brought Potya home with him. “I… it was kinda a last minute thing.” 

“Seriously?” She laughed. “Why am I surprised? Let me guess, you did it yourself?”

“No. Grandpa took me to a barber. God, why does everyone think that?” 

“Because it’s  _ you _ . Anyway, I can’t deny that I’m shocked. I thought you were making your whole image about long hair? It was kinda your trademark. Kinda like Viktor-”

“Fuck off. It was nothing like Viktor.” He flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. 

Mila hummed. “I guess. You’re styles are different enough. Viktor was shit at ballet. None of us are as good as you, actually.” Yuri snorted. “Anyway, not gonna lie, I was worried about you after… but you’re pulling through. I’m proud of you.” 

His chest tightened. “Yeah.” 

“But I see we’re going to need a few styling lessons when you get back.”

He rolled his eyes as he pulled a pillow to his chest. Mila was always so  _ carefree _ , but she was really a good friend. “Hey, Mila, can I ask you a favour?”

“Huh, yeah of course.”

He took a deep breath. “If I give you the password for my Twitter and Instagram, could you delete any DMs with like dick pics and-”

“Yeah, that’s easy for me. That stuff really bothers you, huh?”

He took a deep breath, rolling onto his side and curling around the pillow. “It’s not like sex bothers me, I just… I dunno when I’m caught off-guard I just feel wrong. It kinda… I dunno freaks me out a bit to know that people think of me like that.”

She hummed. “Sure, just text me your logins. I’ll be like your bodyguard.”

He couldn’t stop himself from snorting. “Thanks.”

Katsudon and Viktor called the next morning, before Yuri had a chance to fully wake up. 

“Are you planning on breaking the internet this year?” Katsudon asked, grinning. His face was so pixelated over FaceTime, and sunlight made him almost as white as the hotel bed he was lying on. Viktor had decided that they needed a pre-wedding honeymoon and a vacation to celebrate his second Grand Prix Gold. He and Otabek had fought for gold, but Katsudon had won by two points. Yuri believed that they were somewhere in the south of France, or at least somewhere with no snow. 

“Huh?” Yuri yawned widely, rolling onto his back and holding his phone over his head. 

“Very cute by the way,” Viktor said from off screen. “Seems like you can pull of both long and short hair. I guess you take after me in that way.”

Yuri groaned. “You’re not my father. We’re not even related.” 

Viktor face took up the entire screen a second later. “Rude. I have half a mind to ground you, young man.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes and flipped him off. Viktor gasped loudly. “Yuuri, speak to your son.” 

Katsudon chuckled “So, that Twitter rant…” Yuri shrugged. “That took a lot of guts.”

Yuri shrugged again. “I haven’t even looked at who commented.”

“Still.” He grinned. “I’m proud of you.”

Yuri’s chest tightened and he looked away to hide his smile. “It’s annoying. I’m not just an omega, you know.”

“I know.”

“And I’m gonna let those assholes know that it’s not okay to comment all those gross things on my pictures.”

“I took care of a few already.” Viktor beamed, popping into the screen again.

Yuri’s eyes widened. “You-”

Katsudon sat up, leaning against the headboard, and Viktor snuggled up next to him covered in a fluffy, white robe. Yuri prayed that he wasn’t naked underneath.

“Mmhmm.” He nodded, resting his temple against Katsudon’s shoulder. “Sometimes I’m ashamed to be an alpha. But of course I’m going to stand up for my son-”

“Not your son-”

“And my soon-to-be husband.” He kissed Katsudon’s cheek. Yuri gagged. “But everything you said was true and we’re both happy that you’re using social media to stand up for yourself and other omegas.” He winked. “Shows how mature you’re getting.”

“Shut up,” he groaned, almost hitting the end call button. God, they were so fucking sappy.

 

Spring in Japan was a bit chilly, nowhere near as bad as Saint Petersburg, but there was so much going on at Yutopia that the building was practically steaming. The entire Katsuki family was in an uproar. Yuri walked in chaos; the entire reception area was chalk-full of decorations, and other wedding supplies, Viktor was barking orders at a bunch of surly looking decorators, while Mari and Minako were putting together hundreds of tiny cake boxes and tying little ribbon bows. But there were two empty bottles of wine on the table with them, so neither seemed to mind. Hiroko was the only person who had even noticed Yuri arrived and asked if he was hungry. 

Viktor and Katsudon seemed to have already done an insane amount of work, and Yuri was honestly glad he was only jumping in at the end. He arrived at Hasetsu two days before the wedding, with just enough time for the final adjustments for his  _ Montsuki. _ He still couldn’t believe that the idiots had fought over him, but the Japanese dress was way less constricting than a suit.

There was another party the night before the wedding and even if he was getting seriously annoyed with how Much Viktor was clinging to Katsudon, it was kind of fun. Alcohol was free flowing and just the thought of how much Katsudon and Viktor had shelled out just for the drinks alone had Yuri shuddering. The music was loud, and the couple-to-be was going around getting drunker by the second chatting with friends Yuri didn’t even know they had and giving each other heart-eyes. Yuri his his alcohol intake carefully monitored, and had only gotten away with two shots of sake. Otabek hadn’t had much more either, even though they were less strict with him.

“So the famous wedding is tomorrow,” Otabek said, raising an eyebrow as Viktor and Katsudon circled each other on the makeshift dance floor. He looked a little wistful, and it wasn’t fair, he’d just come from the airport, he should have been exhausted and frumpy with pressure lines all over his face and rumpled clothes. But nothing was out of place, even his glasses shone, without a smudge or fingerprint on the lenses. He was leaning against the table, his biceps pulling at the sleeves of his thin, henley sweater. Yuri had to continuously tell himself not to stare.

“Yeah, fina-fucking-ly. I don’t think I could take one more day of them just like staring at each other. They’re so annoying.”

Otabek scoffed. “I’m happy for them.”

Yuri swallowed, looking down at his soda. “Yeah.” 

He was; the two idiots were perfect for each other. And they had been acting like excited kids the entire night; it was kind of cute actually. He stole a glance at them, they were still swaying on the dance floor staring at each other like there wasn’t anyone else on earth. He hide to bite back a smile. God their happiness was infectious. Mila and Georgi were also clomping around the dance floor and Chris and Katsudon’s Thai friend were dutifully taking incriminating pictures. God, everyone was so drunk. He finished off his drink to keep from laughing. 

“Hey, so uh,” Otabek ran his palm along the back of his head. “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer-”

“Oh, shit, you’re probably exhausted,” Yuri bit his lip, at once feeling guilty for keeping Otabek up, but his stomach sank at the idea of him leaving the party. “Do you want to call a cab?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I just need to get away from this for a while. I mean… I can stay out here a bit longer.”

“Oh,” he sighed in relief.

“Do you wanna go on a walk or something? We’ll stay close to the house-”

“Sure. Let’s go to the beach.” The words barrelled out of his mouth before he realised.

Otabek blinked. “Uh, you sure?” 

He shrugged swallowing down the acid that rose at the back of his throat. “Yeah. It’s not far. Let’s uh… just tell someone.” 

Otabek nodded, and suddenly he was squeezing Yuri’s hand and Yuri’s heart actually stuttered, his cheeks heating, and his skin buzzed. 

The beach was kind of creepy at night. The ocean was black and endless. Like anything could be hiding under the water. The sound of the waves was calming, though; he could listen to it for hours, especially after the pure chaos that was the Katsuki house. They sat on a cold staircase, looking out as bits of white moonlight danced on the waves. Otabek’s thigh was pressed firmly against his and the heat from his body was like fire against Yuri’s skin. 

“You okay?” Otabek asked. 

“Yeah,” he swallowed. “I should be asking you that, though.”

“I’m good now. Just needed some air.” Yuri nodded. It was so easy to forget how important Otabek’s alone time was to him. He was always so chill and quiet, down to do almost anything. “But, uh, you sure you’re okay with this? Just let me know and we can head back-”

“I’m okay, Beka,” Yuri sighed, tugging at a lock of hair that had escaped from his ponytail. It had taken a lot of effort and bobby pins to keep it all in a ponytail with the weird length it was now. “I… I’m not that… scared anymore. And besides I’m with you.” 

He felt him swallow. “Are you sure?” 

Yuri bit his lip, yanking Otabek’s arm around his shoulders and leaning into his side. “Yeah… I. Well, yeah. Okay, fine, like the first few weeks after I got home I couldn't fucking sleep.” Otabek hugged him, breathing out roughly through his mouth. “I just felt like someone was always watching me.”

“Yura-”

“But I’m okay now. I mean that guy was so fucking messed up, and, like, my fans aren’t like that at all. They’re really supportive actually. I mean the fan club is so dramatic and over the top, but they were so pissed when they found out what, uh, happened. They started a petition to have the guy thrown in prison even after Lilia and Yakov…” He sighed, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “It was only one shitty person, and I’m not going to spend my life scared, or change anything I’m doing because of one fuck-wad.” 

Otabek rested the side of his cheek against the top of Yuri’s head. “You’re incredi-”

“So you don’t have to worry about me. Like, when I came out as ace I didn’t expect anyone to really understand, but like you and everyone else have been so supportive and I want to make sure that it doesn’t go to waste.”

“O… okay.”

“Anyway, I guess I’m just trying to say, uh, thanks? You’re my best friend, and I don’t ever want that to change. No matter what happens to me or to you, of if either of us changes-”

“Yura. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. You’re my best friend too, and I just want to make sure your happy.”

Yuri sighed, slumping against him and digging the toes of his shoes into the sand. “Same.” Otabek had helped him so much, there was no way he was ever going to be able to return the favour. But he had to try. “Speaking of which,” he swallowed. “One of Katsudon’s cousins was staring at you all night.” Mila had pointed it out, and for some reason Yuri’s mouth had dried out, and each time he caught the bubbly, Japanese girl eyeing Otabek, something thumped in his chest. “People hook up at weddings, right? I could try to set you up.” Mila could do the dirty work. He didn’t even know where to begin. 

Otabek cleared his throat. “I uh… you don’t-”

Yuri rolled his eyes, nudging him. “Bal told me all the stores about you.”

“ _ What stories _ ? There are no stories.” 

Yuri forced a chuckle. “Yeah, except for the fact that you hold the title of the group slut.”

“Allah, Yura don’t listen to them.  _ Please _ .”

“I know your past record isn’t exactly clean.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not,” he groaned. “Okay fine, I’ve taken people home after gigs, but I’m not - it’s not like what they make it seem like.”

Yuri giggled, poking his ribs. “Right.” 

“I’m going to murder Bal.” 

“Are you ashamed of it?”

“Huh?”

“Of sleeping with so many people?” 

“Oh Allah. Did he give you a number or something?”

Yuri kicked his feet, sending sand up into the air. “No, just that you brought someone home literally every time you went to a club. And they lined up, especially if you were DJ’ing.”

Otabek sighed. “It wasn’t  _ every _ time.” 

Yuri snorted. Okay, he could definitely get used to this teasing. If only he could stop the slight shaking in his stomach. “ _ Okay _ . But I’m also saying, that Katsudon's cousin was kind of cute.” 

Otabek rolled his eyes. “You’re having way too much fun with this.” 

“Yup. Seeing you squirm is hilarious.” 

Otabek elbowed him. “ _Fine_. Tell  _ Mila _ I’m interested so she can pass along the message.” 

Okay, he didn’t expect ice to drop into his stomach. “What like tonight?”

“No,  _ not tonight _ . I haven’t even said a word to her yet. But like after the reception, if she seems cool, if you’re dying to know.”

“Whatever.” He slipped out from underneath Otabek’s arm and stood up, kicking at the sand. “Don’t ever forget how good of a friend I am to you.”

He let out a single bark of laughter. “I won’t-”

“Yuri, Otabek?” 

They both spun around to see Katsudon unsteadily climb down the stairs. 

“What are you doing here?” Yuri asked, trotting up the last few steps to meet him. Otabek jumped to his feet as well. 

Katsudon wrapped his arms around Yuri’s neck, apparently forgetting how his legs worked, and fuck he smelled of pure sake. 

“I found you!” he slurred, nuzzling against Yuri’s neck. 

“Why are you here?” Yuri asked again. One of the street lamps cast sickly white light on them, and Yuri could easily tell how flushed Katsudon’s cheeks were. 

“You were missin’ I didn’t want you to disappear.” 

Yuri sighed, grunting as he tried to get Katsudon to stand up straight. It was a miracle he had even made it out here. “Well thanks, I guess.” he turned to Otabek. “We should probably get him back.”

“Yeah.” He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “Sounds easy enough.” 

Yuri winced, Katsudon was literally pulling him over. “Can you like stand up?”

Katsudon blinked, looking down at his feet and almost toppling over. “M’ standing.” 

Otabek chuckled, helping Yuri to keep him upright. “I’ll carry him.”

“You’ll what?” Yuri nearly stumbled.

“Just help him get on my back.”

It was so weird watching Katsudon half-conscious on Otabek’s back. He was honestly surprised that Otabek could even carry him in the first place. Katsudon was kind of slim, mostly because of Viktor's strict diet plans, but Yuri knew for a fact he was like ninety-seven percent muscle. 

“You’re a good person, Otabek,” Katsudon slurred. “Beka, that’s a really cute nickname.”

“Uh, thanks.” Otabek mumbled, sounding slightly winded. 

Yuri bit back a smile. He really was; he was so amazing. 

“You guys are really lucky you found each other.” 

“Uh,” Yuri’s cheeks heated immediately and he stole a look at Otabek. His eyes had widened a fraction before he pulled back on his neutral mask. There was a blip in Yuri’s heartbeat. 

When they got back to Yutopia Otabek’s forehead was dotted with tiny beads of sweat, but the tried to act like he wasn’t tired; breathing in through his nose instead of panting. Yuri rolled his eyes, hopping on ahead to save his dignity.

“Hey, old man!” He yelled, sliding the door open. “You lost something?” 

Viktor scrambled to the reception area, he was probably just as drunk as Katsudon, but he was a little bit better when it came to coherency.

“Yuuri! There you are!” His eyes were sparkling as he eased Katsudon from Otabek’s back. “Where did you go, love?” 

Katsudon slumped against him, tying to plant a wet kiss to his mouth but missing his face entirely. Yuri shuddered, turning to Otabek, who was working out his arms and shoulders. 

“Our son was missing!” 

“Oh God,” Yuri mumbled pulling, Otabek away from them. Hiroko, Mari, and Yuuko were straightening up the tables, and Mila and Georgi were helping to clear up empty dishes and bottles. Yuri pulled out his phone from his pocket, it was nearly three am; mostly everyone had left. No wonder Katsudon had come looking for him. 

“Thanks for bringing him back,” Viktor said, tapping Otabek on the shoulder. Katsudon was hanging off of him, tugging at one of the buttons on his shirt. “I didn’t even see when he left to be honest.”

“Husband of the year,” Yuri grumbled. 

“Vitya!” Katsudon perked up. “We’re getting married tomorrow!” 

Viktor’s face lit up and he pressed his lips to Katsudon’s temple. “Yes, love.”

Yuri groaned. “Hurry up and put him to bed.” 

Viktor chuckled. “Are you okay to get back to your hotel, Otabek?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll just call a cab-”

“I can drive you,” Yuuko slipped in, smiling as she grabbed, a sake bottle from the table nearest to them. “I just have to get the triplets from upstairs.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” 

Yuuko winked at Yuri as she handed the bottle to Hiroko and bounced off to get the girls. 

“So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Yuri mumbled as he and Otabek waited outside. He still couldn’t shake the feeling of not wanting him to leave. 

“Yeah. Good luck with the whole groomsman thing.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “They’re forcing me to go to a spa.” 

Otabek scoffed, resting his palm against his shoulder. His hand was so warm and big. Yuri bit his lip trying to concentrate on anything else. But it was like Otabek’s skin was made of electricity and Yuri’s entire body was buzzing because of it. What the fuck? He dared to look over at him and he was grinning. Yuri couldn’t see his eyes because his glasses were reflecting the light from overhead, and like okay fine, they hadn’t seen each other in months; their competition schedule hadn’t matched up at all, but there was no reason for him to be bowled over like this. 

Otabek squeezed his shoulder, and Yuri chewed on his lip. Get it together, Plisetsky, he growled at himself. He brushed Otabek’s hand from his shoulder and nudged him with his hip. 

Otabek smirked, flicking Yuri’s ear. 

“Hey!” He spun, facing Otabek face on, but his breath caught in his chest and all he could literally see was Otabek’s smirk. 

Otabek winked at him, playfully tugging a lock of hair. “You’ll survive. You’re strong.”

Yuri had to look away, his stomach frothing and butterflies attacking his chest. Strong. Yeah. 


End file.
